


baby I'll come back to you

by elizaham8957



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Celebrity AU, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, IDK FOLKS here we are, Minor Robb Stark/Margaery Tyrell, Minor Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark, Modern AU, Musician!Jon, R Plus L Does Not Equal J, Second Chance Romance, actress!Dany, but then ends up having lots of angst and feelings too, catch me writing something else that is by all means completely a crackfic, there will be a happy ending I promise, they're the jonas brothers okay just go with it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:01:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 85,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25756279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaham8957/pseuds/elizaham8957
Summary: It's been seven years since the pop sensation boy band The Almost Brothers— made up of Jon Snow, Robb Stark, and Theon Greyjoy— broke up, and still the world is desperate to know why. Even after separate solo careers, their fans have never given up hope that one day they might reunite, despite the fact that the members of the band in question have little belief in that possibility themselves— Jon especially.But when an offer too tempting to resist comes from his almost-brothers, and a chance to get back to what they used to have is offered, Jon might just take it. Maybe they can be a band again, and regain that magic they lost so long ago.That is, if the arrival of one Daenerys Targaryen back on the Hollywood scene— and the news she comes bearing— doesn't ruin everything first.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 619
Kudos: 746





	1. but you used to be the one I loved

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [【囧丹/授翻】宝贝回归计划](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203815) by [grapeonthewall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapeonthewall/pseuds/grapeonthewall)



> Yes hello, it's me again. Recent studies have shown no one even reads these authors notes anyways but WHATEVER I'm gonna ramble up here, get ready. 
> 
> Yes I know I took 39047938 years to finish this. Yes I know I have like 200 unread comments on my other fics (I'M WORKIN ON IT I PROMISE.) But Miss Taylor Swift dropped folklore and kicked my ass into GEAR and I wrote most of this chapter in like a weekend because of it, so yall can thank her for this thing even getting close to finished. This story is sort of a departure from my norm but I am excited to tackle it and I hope you are all excited to read along!! 
> 
> That being said there is ANGST ahead. I'm not using the second chance romance tag lightly. Shit has gone down (you will see.) There are also quite a lot of things that are uhh NOT tagged because I don't want to ruin my own plot. (Not triggering things, though.) If you read this first chapter and decide it's not your cup of tea-- totally fine!! I will not be mad. It's up to you what you wanna read and not read. I can promise that despite the angst there will most certainly be a happy ending, and there are also gonna be lots of happy flashbacks scattered throughout as well. Hopefully that will break up the angst fest lol.
> 
> Disclaimer: Robb and Jon and Theon are the Westerosi equivalent of the Jonas Brothers in this. I know what you're thinking-- Sabrina, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! You're seriously going to write a whole goddamn FIC about that?? Yes it's true, I am. What can I say, I'm a slut for the Jonas Brothers. This is like uh VEEERY loosely based on the brothers' actual lives, and I promise you need to know absolutely nothing about them as a band or as people to read this and understand. The main similarity is that all the songs in this are actual Jonas Brothers songs and I would highly recommend you listen to them because let's be real, the JoBros slap. But if you don't want to, it should not take away from the fic in any way. 
> 
> Shoutouts shoutouts shoutouts-- my beautiful wonderful betas, Fer and Giulia, as always. Ellie, for going copy editor on my rambly ass and making this presentable. Alice, for that GORGEOUS moodboard. All my wonderful incredible Tumblrina friends for sprinting with me and encouraging me and always being down to rant about this goddamn hobby together. Everyone who's been looking forward to this fic, for keeping me accountable and assuring that I actually do write it. Martha, for that BEAUTIFUL artwork of these two she did (it's on my tumblr somewhere, go look at it it's breathtaking.) 
> 
> ALRIGHT enough from me. Enjoy this absolute crack fic based on a TEXT POST that I somehow am going to manage to turn into a 200k mess once again (it's my brand.) Thank you all for reading!!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50197073146/in/dateposted-public/)

It feels like it’s been a bloody age since he’s seen both Robb and Theon in the same room. 

He spots them the moment he steps into the coffee shop, even though they’re in the back corner, tucked away from prying eyes. Jon keeps his head down as he maneuvers through the crowded café, sunglasses still on even inside, just in case anyone looks his way. It’s an old habit he has yet to break— of the three of them, he certainly gets recognized the least nowadays, which is probably why all the tabloids claim he’s fallen off the face of the planet. Theon’s been doing movies, Robb is married to probably the most famous woman in the world, and Jon— well. He’s been living, best he can. Getting better, all of that bullshit. But truly, he hasn’t done anything like the other two have in years, so people don’t recognize him as much. Enough to squint at him in an  _ I-know-you’re-famous _ way, but not enough to rush him like they do Robb whenever he steps foot outside his house. He outgrew his nineteen-year-old baby face and started tying his hair back, and all of a sudden it’s like he’s wearing a mask. 

“Jon,” he hears Robb’s familiar voice call, and he nods toward the two men, head still down. The last thing he needs is the paps recognizing them, starting to spread rumors about the three of them all together again. 

“Hi,” Jon says, slipping into the booth, finally taking off his sunglasses. Light from outside streams in through the large windows, the busy sprawl of King’s Landing on the other side. Theon slaps him on the arm in greeting; Robb smiles at him in that way he does now. That way that looks like everything’s fine, but where the light doesn’t quite meet his eyes. 

Gods, he can’t remember the last time his cousin actually looked  _ truly  _ happy to see him. Probably before their last tour. 

He knows why, of course. Robb would never say it, but Jon knows that he blames him for the breakup. For everything. 

“Bloody hells, Jon, it’s been an age,” Theon says, grinning at him. “Where’ve you been?” 

“I’ve been here,” he responds, crossing his arms. “You’re the one who was off filming for three months.” 

“Aye, how did that go?” Robb asks, gaze turning to Theon, that guarded look disappearing. “I haven’t seen you since you got back. You missed Rose’s birthday party, you know.” 

“I know,” Theon grumbles. “I’ll make it up to her, I promise. I have to maintain my favorite-uncle status.” 

They chat for a while— mundane things, catching up. Theon tells them about the movie he’d just wrapped on. Robb shows them both a million new photos of his children. Jon keeps quiet, just listening. It’s…  _ nice,  _ to be back with both of them, the warm sunlight spilling in through the windows, making Robb’s eyes shine like they used to when he was younger. It makes him forget, for a moment. Transports him to those days when the three of them would spend every moment of their time together, practically inseparable. It’s a far cry from where they are now, that’s for sure.

Jon realizes he’s lost track of the conversation when Theon clears his throat, looking at the two of them almost nervously, in a decidedly un-Theon-like way. “I’m glad we did this,” he says to them, “because I wanted to tell you both.” He pauses, looking at Robb, as if trying to gauge his best friend’s reaction before he even says anything. “I’m going to ask Sansa to marry me.” 

Robb’s eyes get comically wide, so much that Jon chuckles, ducking his head. But it only takes his cousin a moment to recover, before he’s grinning widely, eyes sparkling in a way Jon hasn’t seen in a long time. 

Or maybe that’s just because Jon seldom sees Robb anymore. 

“Wow,” Robb says, almost speechless. “That’s— that’s brilliant, Theon. Congratulations!” 

“Well, I haven’t asked her yet,” Theon says, giving Robb a look. “Don’t go cursing me or something now. She’ll go on and say no.” 

“You think she would?” Jon asks. Theon shrugs. 

“I don’t really, but— hells, I don’t know.” He gives Robb a look. “How did you know it was right when you asked Margaery?” 

Robb huffs in laughter. “Oh gods, don’t take advice from me on that,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. 

“What do you mean?” Theon demands. “You’re the only one of us who’s bloody married!” 

Jon looks down as the sudden feeling of coldness creeps in, like an icy dagger to the heart. Memories flash before his eyes, and he’s trapped back in the past, glimpses of hair like moonlight and teasing smiles dragging him down, drowning him. 

He still has that diamond ring somewhere— buried in the back of a drawer, probably, where he won’t stumble upon it. Seeing it is too painful, but getting rid of it— well. That’s painful in an entirely different way. 

“Aye, but Margaery made it easy for me,” Robb says, and Jon’s grateful for the redirect. Letting his mind wander down that path is never good. It’s better to just push it all back. “She wrote a whole bloody album that basically told me she was waiting for me to ask her.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Y’know I  _ still  _ get asked if I married her with paper rings.” 

At that, Jon snorts, a little of the darkness lifting. He’s seen Margaery’s engagement ring, and it is  _ certainly  _ not made of paper. 

Jon tunes out as Robb continues on, reassuring Theon. He doesn’t realize he’s being addressed until both men are staring at him expectantly. 

“Sorry, what?” he says, and Robb rolls his eyes amiably. 

“I asked, what have you been doing, Jon?” Theon repeats, and Jon shifts uncomfortably.  _ Nothing  _ is really the most honest answer. Working out. Walking Ghost. Trying to keep his mind occupied and himself sober. 

It’s probably sad to look at his life now, compared to what it used to be. When he was twenty years old, he was touring the world, singing for millions of fans, writing songs every single minute of every single day. Music was most of his life. And now he’s just trying to get by, he supposes. 

“Er, not much,” he admits. “Not like you two, anyways.” 

Robb glances up at him, that guarded look back in his eyes. “Arya told me you’ve been writing again,” he says, quietly. Jon curses mentally— he never should have told her that. 

“Fuckin’ tattletale,” Jon grumbles. But he can tell from Robb’s expression he’s not going to drop it. “Aye, I have been,” he admits, heaving a sigh. “Not anythin’ good. Just… I dunno. I missed it, I guess.” 

“I miss it too,” Theon says, a smile tugging at his lips. “Acting is fine, but music… it’s something different, isn’t it?” 

“Aye, it is,” Robb agrees. “Margaery’s been workin’ on her next album, and it makes me think back to then. When we’d just crowd around the table in Mum and Dad’s living room, and Jon would come up with a lyric, and Theon would just  _ hear  _ how it should sound, and we’d write a song in an afternoon.” He sighs, a little wistfully, looking down. “Watching Margaery at the piano, it just…” 

“Feels like a part of you is missing,” Theon supplies. 

Jon doesn’t answer, but he understands that feeling as well. Maybe that’s why he began songwriting again. Not because he wants to have a music career anymore— just because it’s so ingrained in him, he doesn't really know what to do with himself if he’s not making music. And if he’s being honest, writing down lyrics, coming up with a melody on the guitar or the piano that mainly just collect dust in his living room… there’s a comforting familiarity to it. Like maybe his sense of self hasn’t been completely destroyed. Maybe some of the old person he used to be is buried down deep. 

“Do you ever think about it?” Theon asks, and Robb’s brow furrows. “Y’know. The possibility of… us. Getting back together.” 

Robb exhales slowly. “More than I should,” he says. “I… it’s really hit me, in the past few years. How much I miss it. And doing things by myself, or with other people, it’s just not the same.” 

“Aye,” Jon agrees, both Theon and Robb looking a little surprised at the fact that he’s participating in this conversation voluntarily. But he knows what Robb means. He did solo things after the breakup, just because he didn’t know how to do anything else. And it had been a lackluster replacement, nothing like he’d felt for the almost nine years he and Robb and Theon were together. That had been something so fleeting and magical, he’s not really sure he’ll ever find anything like it again. 

“What about you, Jon?” Robb asks, and as casual as his cousin may be trying to appear, Jon knows him better than that. He can hear the apprehension in his voice. And the hope. 

Jon exhales, trying to sort out his words in his head before he says something he regrets. “I do miss it,” he says. “And sometimes I think about it. Gettin’ back together. But I always…” He hesitates. “Would it even be the same? Can we have that again, truly? Or was it just some miracle we stumbled upon we can’t get back?” 

“I wonder that too,” Theon admits. “If we got back together— would anyone even care? Would anyone want to listen to our music in the first place?” 

“I dunno,” Jon says, crossing his arms. “It’s been over six years. The tabloids are still convinced I ran away and am livin’ beyond the fuckin’ wall. I think people have forgotten.” 

“They think you’re beyond the wall because no one ever sees you anymore,” Theon says with a smirk. “Maybe if you actually came out of your house once in a bloody while, people wouldn’t be saying you faked your death or something.” 

“Theon,” Jon growls, voice a low warning. He’d given up half his childhood, grown up under a never ending parade of cameras and commentators because they’d loved music that much. Gods forbid he revel in his privacy now.

“Alright, alright,” Robb says, placating. Theon quiets, his expression ever so slightly apologetic as he meets Jon’s gaze. 

“I don’t know if anyone would remember,” Robb admits, and his blue eyes flash with determination, desperation. Like he’s clinging onto this with all his might. “But honestly— who cares? We don’t have to worry about the fans, or the people, or what anyone thinks. We could do it just for us.” 

_ Just for us,  _ Jon thinks, trying not to roll his eyes. That’s a novel thought in this business. All he seemed to do when they were a band was give and give and give himself away. Nothing here was ever just for him. 

Well… there was  _ her.  _ But now that’s gone as well. 

“I would do it,” Theon says, with a conviction that surprises Jon. “It would be hard, and who bloody knows what would even come of it, but I would. If this is you asking, Robb, then I say yes.” 

Robb blinks, a little taken aback, but then Theon’s words really seem to hit him, and he smiles. A laugh falls from his lips, eyes shining in a way that Jon rarely sees anymore. 

“What about you, Jon?” Theon asks, and that’s when Robb’s eyes dim. 

Jon sighs. “I dunno,” he says. “That’s… a big decision. I’d like to just say yes, but…” 

“I know,” Robb says. “And you shouldn’t say yes unless you really mean it, Jon. If you just… do this for us, nothing will end well.” 

His eyes drop down to the coffee table, heart heavy. Yes, he knows that’s true. Because isn’t that how it all blew up the first time? Jon couldn’t do it anymore, and instead of telling anyone, he soldiered on for Robb and Theon. For his almost-brothers. And it all ended in fucking disaster. 

“I’ll think about it,” he promises, and the sincerity in his voice takes him by surprise as much as it does Robb and Theon. “Truly, I will.” 

Maybe it’s not a bad idea. He loved making music with Robb and Theon. It was his entire life for so long— some crazy dream they somehow made come true.. And he misses having a  _ purpose,  _ an outlet, an… anything. He misses the time when his life wasn’t an endless void, a monotonous parade of going through the motions day-to-day, trying to learn to move on from something he never really thinks he’ll be over. 

Robb’s smile is warm when it meets his, and Theon claps him on the shoulder, looking uncharacteristically hopeful. And for a moment, Jon’s heart feels light, not like it’s made of iron, heavy in his chest even after nearly seven years. 

But then Robb’s expression shifts, and his stomach sinks once again. 

“There’s somethin’ else,” his cousin admits. “Sansa just told me. And I figured you’d rather hear it from us than see it plastered across all the tabloids in King’s Landing.” 

“What is it?” Jon asks, dread filling his stomach. He just knows, somehow, that this is it. This fragile peace he’s tried to build these past years is about to shatter, the rug pulled out from under him. 

Robb exhales, like he has to physically force the words out, and Jon prepares himself for the fallout.

“Dany’s back in town.” 

And with that, the world stops spinning. 

Time seems to freeze, everything around him moving in slow motion. He can hear Theon saying something, but the words are garbled, like he’s hearing them underwater. 

Jon’s entire body has gone still, dread filling his stomach, heartbreak and pain gripping him like a knife twisted in his chest. The only part of him that moves at all is his heart, pounding like a drum, aching and raw. 

He hates it. Hates how desperately his heart beats again at just the sound of her name. It’s been laying dead in his chest for seven years, and just those two syllables have brought it back to life. 

He knows it’s not the same for her. Because she’s the one who up and left without a second thought while he fell to pieces. She’s the one who stayed away even after. And just the fact that she  _ can  _ come back here— well. That speaks volumes to how different this is for the two of them. 

Gods damn her and her apathy. And gods damn him and his inability to ever get over her. 

“How long?” he asks, but his voice sounds like a stranger to his ears. He doesn’t even process telling his brain to say the words. “How long has she been back?” he clarifies, vision clearing enough that he can see Robb’s furrowed brow. 

“A few days, I think,” Robb says. “She… texted Sansa when she got back.” 

Jon exhales, resting his forehead in his hand, elbow propped on the table. He’s aware that Sansa has still been in touch with her all these years— Dany had been like another sister to them, at one point. Arya, Jon knows, cut off all contact with her when she moved to Essos, leaving Jon and his smashed heart behind. But Sansa has long refused to pick sides, even if she doesn’t bring up her continued friendship with his ex around him. 

_ “Fuck,”  _ he says, eyes squeezing closed. After all this time, he never really imagined Dany would come back. His heart feels like lead, his stomach a twisted knot of emotions. Not that he could ever really forget her, but it’s always been much easier to pretend he doesn’t think about her with her on a different bloody continent. 

“Hey, Jon,” Robb says, and for just a moment, he sounds like the concerned older brother that Jon knew most his life. Or, cousin, technically. Whatever. “Listen, it’ll be alright,” he says, but he doesn’t sound sure of it at all. 

“Aye,” Theon agrees, patting his shoulder. “You probably won’t ever see her. It’s a big city.” 

Jon snorts, because he knows that’s not true. Sure, for normal people, King’s Landing is huge and sprawling. But for them, this city has always been a bloody fishbowl. 

“With my luck, I seriously doubt that,” he mutters. “The universe seems intent on torturin’ me.” 

“Well, then maybe you need a distraction from that,” Robb offers, and he looks all bloody  _ hopeful  _ again. Jon’s eyes squeeze closed again, because the last thing he wants right now when it feels like the entire fucking world has come crashing down around him is to be forced into a decision like the one Robb’s proposing. 

Besides, the last time he’d tried to use their band as a distraction from Dany, things hadn’t really ended well. 

“Exactly,” Theon says. “You just have to try to forget about her.” 

That’s about all he can take. He turns to glare at Theon, fingers curling into a fist at his side reflexively, jaw clenched. 

“What the fuck do you think I’ve been tryin’ to do for all these years?” he demands, frustration and grief making him sound even harsher than he intended. Theon just blinks, not sure what to say. 

“You think I  _ enjoy  _ just going through the motions, spendin’ all my time trying to find some way back to who I was before her? Before everything that happened after she left? I  _ don’t,”  _ he snaps. “I fuckin’ hate it.” He exhales sharply, knowing he shouldn’t yell at Theon and Robb, but it’s been almost seven years of this, and they  _ still  _ don’t seem to get it. Not when she left. Not when he fell apart and dragged the band down with him. Not when he almost drank himself to death and spent half a year in rehab. 

“I can’t just forget it,” he says, grabbing his sunglasses and wallet. “I’ve tried. It doesn’t work. No matter what I do.” 

“Jon—” Robb says, but he’s already standing, jamming his sunglasses back on. 

“No, I’m done,” he says, shaking his head. “I can’t keep fuckin’ explaining this. I don’t know what more you want from me.” He turns, looking at the other two men. Once upon a time, they were his entire world. All he needed. 

Now they don’t even know who he is anymore. 

“The person you want to join your band again is gone,” he spits. “Stop lookin’ for him.” 

And with that, he turns and leaves. 

“What the fuck, Theon,” he can hear Robb say as he makes his way back through the café, pushing open the door and stepping out into the too-warm King’s Landing sunshine again. A part of him feels guilty for yelling at them, but another part of him thinks it’s probably for the best. 

It’s like he said. The Jon Snow the world knew is dead and gone. There isn’t any getting him back, that much he’s certain of. 

***

In all honesty, he’s surprised by how much time it takes for Arya to call him. 

“Why’d you yell at Robb?” she says in lieu of greeting, and Jon can just picture the disappointed scrunch of her eyebrows. 

He sighs. “Technically, I yelled at Theon.” 

“Jon,” Arya says. She sounds annoyed, like she’s dealing with a petulant child. 

“It’s really your fault,” he argues. “If you hadn’t fuckin’  _ tattled  _ on me writing music again, Robb never would have tried to convince me to get the band back together.” 

“So that’s what this is about,” she says, and her voice is gentler now. 

Jon sighs again. Ghost looks up from where he’s been lounging on the other end of the couch, moving closer to Jon so he can nudge at his knee as he talks.

“It’s a bad idea,” he says, watching as Ghost rolls over, making himself comfortable again. The weight of his dog against his side is comforting, familiar. He’s been the only familiarity, these past years. “A terrible idea, really. Robb shouldn’t have all this hope that all of a sudden things will go back to how they used to be.” 

“What did Theon say?” Arya asks. 

Jon snorts. “He agreed right away, of course. It was  _ Robb _ askin’.” 

“So why’s it such a terrible idea?” his cousin says. “If they both want to do this again?” 

“Because it won’t be the same,” Jon says, sighing. “I don’t know why they don’t understand that.”

“They miss you, Jon,” she says. He snorts. 

“I find it hard to believe Robb misses me.” 

He can practically hear Arya roll her eyes. “Just because he’s still hurt doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you anymore. Doesn’t miss what you three used to have.” 

“Well, he can keep missin’ it, because there’s no getting any of it back,” Jon mutters. He knows he sounds bitter and angry, and that Arya doesn’t really deserve his sullenness, but he can’t help it. 

His cousin sighs. “Alright, fine, no more band ever again,” she relents. There’s an edge to her voice, though, and Jon knows she’s not  _ really  _ dropping it. 

Arya is tenacious as all hells, and it sometimes makes him question why she’s his favorite relative. 

“So then why’d you start writing music again?” she follows with, and Jon sighs, because there it is. 

“I don’t know, Arya,” he admits, looking down to his lap. “I was just… sick of feelin’ nothing, I guess. I just wanted to feel like myself again. All these years I’ve been trying to force it all away, because it’s safer to feel empty.” 

“It’s also really fuckin’ depressing,” Arya says. Jon huffs in laughter, but there’s no humor to it. 

“Better that than nearly drinkin’ myself to death again.” 

Arya quiets, and he can picture the look on her face— sympathetic but hardened, no pity in her eyes. It’s the same way she looked at him when she went to pick him up from rehab nearly four years ago. 

“Jon,” she says, voice quiet. “I know you went through all seven hells after— everything,” she says awkwardly, clearly just catching herself from letting the name slip. He’s thankful for it anyways— he’s not sure he can hear her name again today without drowning in his grief. “But you’re better now, alright? You don’t have to keep yourself so…  _ numb  _ all the time. You’re stronger than you think. You’re not going to fall back into that.” 

He sighs. “You don’t know that, Arya.” 

“It’s been four years since you got out of rehab, and you haven’t wavered yet.” She pauses pointedly. “So what’s different now?” 

Jon squeezes his eyes closed, wondering if she really doesn’t know, because he can’t imagine Arya making him say the words. 

“You haven’t heard?” he asks, and Arya’s silence is answer enough. He exhales, steeling himself. “Dany’s back in King’s Landing.” 

“Oh,” Arya says, voice quieter now. He remains silent, fingers digging into Ghost’s fur. His dog nuzzles closer, as if he senses that he needs comfort right now. 

“Let me guess,” Arya says a moment later, and a little bit of humor is back in her voice. “Theon suggested you forget about her by getting the band back together, and that’s why you yelled at him.” 

Jon can’t help but laugh at that. “Pretty much.” 

She’s quiet for another moment. “Don’t hate me,” she says, and Jon groans. “But I don’t think it’s such a terrible idea.” 

“Really?” he says, voice full of skepticism. “It sounds like a bloody disaster waitin’ to happen to me.” 

“Why?” she prods. He sighs, hand squeezing into a fist. Ghost looks at him, nudging his hand with his nose, but it does nothing to ease his tension. 

“D’you remember what happened the last time I tried to use the band as a way to forget about her?” Jon asks, words coming out a little more heated than he intended. Arya doesn’t seem fazed, though— she’s never been one to take any of his bullshit. 

“That was almost seven years ago, Jon,” she says, like she’s explaining this to a child. “And, like I said, things are better now.  _ You’re  _ better now.” Arya pauses. “Writing a few songs isn’t going to send you spiralling back, I promise.” 

Jon exhales, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s all well and good for Arya to think that, but that doesn’t necessarily make it true. Jon’s not sure things are better now, honestly. Sure, he’s had years to learn to push her from his mind, but he still never got closure. Never got answers. Even if he never sees her again, he’ll keep wondering for the rest of his life. And that — that will keep haunting him, regardless of how he tries to push it away. 

“What if you’re wrong?” he asks, voice quiet. He won’t admit how afraid he is of going back to that dark time to anyone, but he thinks Arya probably knows anyways. “I don’t want to end up back like I was before. I’m not goin’ back to rehab.” 

“I won’t let it happen,” Arya says determinedly. The surety in her voice is unwavering, strong enough to move mountains. 

“Besides,” she continues. “You were a band before Daenerys. You made music for years before she was in your life. It’s a part of who you are, and I  _ know  _ you miss it. Don’t try to argue,” she says, cutting him off, the words dying in Jon’s mouth. “Because otherwise you wouldn’t have started writing again.” 

He hesitates a moment, before realizing it’s fruitless to try to deny it. “Aye, I miss it,” he admits, because that’s the truth. After  _ everything, _ he couldn’t even look at the piano or the guitar in his living room. He had to switch off the radio every time one of their songs came on. Because they were all about  _ her,  _ and hearing them or thinking about them and why he wrote them was like a knife in the heart. 

But now, it’s faded enough that thinking of writing music again isn’t as torturous as it once was. And Arya’s right— music is a part of him. He misses it, not for the fame or the glory or any of that bullshit, but because it’s always been a part of his life. Even if it was his fault, when the band fell apart, it felt like his heart was being ripped out all over again when he lost them. 

“But…?” Arya prompts, waiting for him to continue. 

_ “But,”  _ Jon says. “I don’t think we’ll ever be able to get back what we had.” 

That’s what scares him the most, really. That they’ll try this and discover the magic they had when they were younger is lost forever. If nothing changes he can keep clinging to the hope that maybe he hasn’t lost every part of who he used to be. 

“Why not?” she asks. Jon huffs in aggravation. 

“Are you determined to just question everythin’ I say to you?” he asks, half teasing, and Arya laughs.

“No,” she answers. “Only the things you say that are completely dense.” 

Jon waits for her to move on, but she won’t. “I’m a different person now, Arya,” he tells her. “The Jon who was a part of that band doesn’t exist anymore. And I can’t get him back, no matter how much Robb and Theon want me to.” 

_ “Gods,  _ you sound melodramatic,” Arya grumbles. He opens his mouth to argue back, but she cuts him off. “Obviously you’re different now, you prat. You all are. It’s been years and years since you started out.” She pauses. “Robb is  _ married  _ now, with two children. Theon’s practically a movie star. You think they’re the same as they were when you lot were teenagers?” 

“No,” Jon admits. He supposes she does have a point. Still, he’s reasonably convinced that neither of them are as changed as he is. 

“It doesn’t matter if you’re a different person now, Jon,” she promises. “It’s just about you three. You have something special, no matter what.” 

“Maybe,” Jon says. Arya sighs. 

“Well, you’ll never know if you don’t try, right?” 

Jon shrugs. 

“I think you should do it,” she continues. “I think it’ll be good for you. Good for  _ all  _ of you. It can be a distraction from Dany if you want, or it can just be for you. But Jon, I think it’s time you stopped living your life like a ghost and did something for yourself again.” 

“You know it’s not that simple,” he grumbles, looking down at Ghost’s head in his lap again. “I can’t just… forget it all.” 

“I’m not  _ telling  _ you to forget her. I know you can’t,” Arya says. “But you have to stop focusing on all this pain and fear if you ever want to live your life again. You love music, I know it. Why keep denying yourself of it? Just give it a try, would you?” 

“I’ll think about it,” he says, and Arya seems to realize that’s all she’ll get from him today. 

Like Robb said, this isn’t a decision that should be rushed into anyways. 

Arya bids him farewell before hanging up, and then Jon’s left again in the silence of his house, fingers combing through Ghost’s fur. 

He sighs, looking over at the piano in the corner of the room. 

Maybe they’re right. Maybe it is time for him to start trying to live again. 

***

He does think about it. Almost every day for the next two weeks, the possibility haunts him.

Theon texts him to apologize, but Jon doesn’t answer. He doesn’t hear from him or Robb other than that. They seem to know they have to leave him alone to stew it over. 

Even when they were starting out, Jon was always the hardest one to convince of anything. 

Arya’s words play over and over again in his head; Robb’s hopeful eyes refuse to be erased from his memories. And in the corner of his living room, the piano beckons, taunting him. 

It’s a funny thing to think about, the possibility of getting back together. For years after the breakup, he didn’t think Robb would even want to ever speak with him again. After he got out of rehab a little bit of that old hostility had faded— which he’s fairly certain was necessitated by the harsh reality that Jon had almost  _ died  _ and Robb hadn’t spoken to him in literal years— but by that point he was such a shell of his former self that any thoughts of maybe making music again were far off fantasies, figments of imagination. 

Now, it might not be anymore. 

If it works, that is. Because that’s the most terrifying part— what if that magic is gone? What if they try this and no one cares, and it’s just another total disaster? 

He has enough demons haunting him as it is, and Jon really doesn’t want to add the band falling apart yet again to that list. 

Groaning, he runs a hand through his sweaty hair, eyes glued to the piano. He’d gone for a run with Ghost to try to clear his mind, but it had done absolutely no good. With every pounding step against the pavement, he had just become further lost in his thoughts, fears and reasons why not spiraling out of control and dragging him down. 

Hesitantly, he sits down on the bench, fingers gently stroking over the keys, careful not to make a sound. 

Gods, why did he go and tell Arya he had started writing again? He should have known she’d blab to Robb, and that he’d be caught up in some guilt-trip scheme to get him to join the band again. That’s the exact opposite of what he wants. He started writing again to find some sense of peace with his old self, see if there was anything left of the person he used to be. Something like that. Not so Robb and Theon could try to peer pressure him into being someone he isn’t anymore. 

Music used to be an escape for him, an outlet. The last thing Jon wants is for it to turn back into a cage. 

Ghost nudges at his knee, and Jon looks away from the keys, stroking his dog’s head. “I know,” he mutters, ruffling Ghost’s ears. “I have to tell them something eventually.” 

The problem is, he’s still not sure what exactly to tell them. 

The easiest answer would be no. No, it won’t work, it’s not worth trying. The safest route is to leave things as they are, to give up any fantastical hopes of finding what they used to have again. 

It’s what Jon wants to do, really. But there’s a tiny, wistful part of his mind that wants him to say yes. Wants to find that purpose they used to have when they were younger. Wants to be a part of something bigger than himself again. 

Maybe, if things were normal, he would be quicker to say yes. Maybe it would be easier to believe in himself, in the band. But there’s one thing that keeps him from just giving in. 

Dany. 

It’s been two weeks since Robb told him she was back, and already she’s haunting him again. He hasn’t actually seen her, but just knowing she’s in the city again makes it impossible to push her from his mind. 

Of course, thinking about her is a lot easier to avoid when her face isn't plastered across every bloody tabloid in Westeros. 

It had been so much easier when she was in Essos. Jon barely keeps up with the tabloids here, so Essosi rags were easy to ignore. And after that first—  _ incident  _ with some garbage Pentoshi tabloid, he purposely steered as clear as possible, and it had worked for the most part. 

Gods, seeing those papped photos of her and her new costar cuddled up together in that little café, barely two months after she’d left for Pentos— that had been the final knife in the gut, the lethal blow that had truly shattered his heart. Those photos had eventually ended up getting him a hit lead single for his debut as a solo artist, but he’d never been able to sing  _ Jealous  _ without the pain in his chest almost crippling him. 

But now that she’s in King’s Landing, the paps have flocked to her, and there’s a new picture of her on the front of every tabloid every day. Jon’s not sure how she can physically be in so many places at once— it seems like every time he turns around there’s a new headline about her going somewhere with someone, accompanied by photos of her and her new friends smiling brilliantly at the camera. It’s a sharp, painful stab in his heart, seeing her acting so _ normal.  _

Meanwhile, he’s over here trying not to fall apart at the sight of her in all the places they used to go together. 

Jon wonders if she knows. That just by existing in the same sphere as him again, she’s torturing him. 

Squeezing his eyes closed, he stands, leaving the piano untouched. It does no good to think about it, he knows by now. 

“C’mon, Ghost,” Jon mumbles. “I’ll get you water.” 

Seven years later, he’s tried it all— pushing it away, drowning it out, wallowing in it. He knows well enough that none of it works. The pain ebbs and flows, fades and reappears, but it never truly leaves. 

Ghost laps up his fresh water happily, Jon filling a glass for himself as well and sipping it just to have something to do. His phone lights up next to him on the counter, his stomach sinking when he sees what the notification is. 

Godsdammit, it’s been years and  _ years,  _ and he still isn’t quite sure how to turn off notifications for all his social media accounts. He needs to have Arya do that next time he sees her. 

He knows he should just turn it back off, ignore the article that someone had tagged him in, but Jon can admit that he isn’t strong enough to do that. Begrudgingly he unlocks his phone, eyes skating over the new picture of Dany that Buzzfeed is blasting everywhere. 

Apparently she’d posted it on her instagram first, but seeing it is like a punch to the gut, and the reason why is because next to the new photo, there’s an old one with  _ him  _ in it. __

Him and Dany sitting on one of benches by the big pond in Baelor’s Garden, downtown. His arm slung around her, nose buried in her hair. The smile on her face is blinding, eyes crinkled with happiness, the sunshine making her hair glow like moonlight. 

The new photo is her and Missandei on that same bench, grinning at the camera, heads pressed together. She looks just as happy, absolutely  _ radiant,  _ and gods, he can’t even look at it anymore. Heart pounding, Jon closes his phone, eyes slamming shut as such tangible proof of how much he used to fucking love her flashes before his closed lids. 

He hasn’t been back to Baelor’s Garden since she left. It used to be a place they went together, relatively private and peaceful enough that they wouldn’t be harassed for photos every step. It would hurt too much to go back, to be reminded so viscerally of that place where they used to be happy. Where they used to be  _ together.  _

Jon’s breath grows short, pain licking at his heart like flames. Gods, she’s been gone for seven years. He knew from the moment she went to Essos that she thought she didn’t need him, and yet  _ still,  _ in all that time, he’s never been able to erase her from his thoughts the way she clearly has erased him from hers. 

She went back there. She went back to that spot, to that place where they’d been  _ them,  _ without all the cameras and publicity and press. And she didn’t even look fazed. Jon thinks if he walked into Baelor’s Garden right now it would feel like he was being torn to pieces. And yet— there’s Dany, beaming at the fucking camera, as if nothing ever happened. 

As if  _ they  _ never happened. 

Ghost whines, nudging Jon in the knee, and he sighs, opening his eyes, shoulders relaxing. It’s a trained movement, not one that comes naturally. He has to remind himself to unclench his fists, moving away from the counter, walking back to the living room almost like he’s in a trance. 

She’s moved on. She’s forgotten. That much is clear from the photo. And he mostly knew, but… it’s something else to assume and to have concrete proof of it. Jon’s been half living and chasing shadows, and Dany’s… not. She’s going back to places that used to mean something to them, used to be for  _ them,  _ without batting an eye. As if they don’t hold any memories for her. As if they’re just any old place. 

And here he is, getting hung up on used-to-be. 

Slowly, he walks back to the piano, fingers tracing the keys once again. Gods, if only he could just go back. 

Back to the band or back to Dany, Jon’s not sure. Neither. Both. Just back to… something. Back to how it used to be. 

He closes his eyes, stroking the keys, and it’s like the melody just appears in his head, waiting to be written. 

Ghost looks up from where he’d flopped onto the floor, ears perking as Jon begins to play. 

The words come as easily as the melody. Like they’d been trapped in his head for decades, just waiting for the right moment to float up to the surface. He hums them as he plays, pausing to scribble them down on the pad of paper on top of the piano, then turning back to the keys.

It’s like he’s caught in a fever dream, something else taking possession of him. All he can see is Dany, smiling on the front page of every tabloid in Westeros, her and her new friends, the photographic proof that she’s moved on. Left him behind. 

Jon blinks, looking up at the clock as he scratches out the last line of the second verse and replaces it, and realizes it’s been over an hour. He blinks again, looking down at the notepad below his hand. The messy lyrics scrawled out, melody running in parallel across the page. 

Haltingly, he writes the title across the top of the page.  _ Used To Be.  _

It’s then that he exhales, and it’s like a massive weight has been lifted off his shoulders, his lungs expanding fully for the first time in months and months. This song in front of him is raw emotion, the visceral pain of watching her move on while he stays stuck in the past. 

But. Jon inhales again, and his mind feels clearer than it has for longer than he can remember. Maybe… maybe he doesn’t have to stay stuck. 

Maybe they’re all right. Maybe all the bullshit about getting back together, the excuses he’s been feeding himself for years, don’t matter. Maybe all that matters is  _ this.  _

The music. The lyrics. And his brothers. 

Maybe they could do this again. And maybe it could bring him back to life. 

Jon’s felt empty for so long he can barely remember anything before. Glimpses of crowded stadiums, the brilliant smiles of Robb and Theon, the swelling feeling in his chest as they performed for millions of screaming fans. That  _ feeling,  _ of being loved, and wanted, and understood. Knowing that his lyrics spoke to people. That they felt those same things. He only has fragmented moments of that magic now, drowned out by years of pain and unfeeling and alcohol. 

And finally, he can admit. He’s so goddamn sick of feeling numb. 

There’s a part of the emptiness that’s comfortable. Maybe that’s why he’s wallowed in pain all these years— at least the sharp loss of Dany reminds him that at one point, he had her. Now he just has nothing. But looking at the song in his hands, the lyrics he’d written, he realizes— he doesn’t have nothing. He has something  _ incredible.  _

He has a band. And even if it’s not the same as it was, it’s still  _ them.  _

And it’s time he stopped pretending it wasn’t. 

***

“Jon!” Robb calls, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of sound echoing through the bar. Jon looks away from the guitar resting against his thigh, watching as his cousin drags Theon through the crowded backstage. 

It can’t really be called that— it’s more of a hallway. There had been a room for them to get ready, but that’s about the most backstage-ish thing Jon’s seen since they got here. He wonders, vaguely, if all bars are as crowded and confusingly laid out as this one.

“You ready?” Theon asks, reaching out to ruffle Jon’s hair. He dodges, glaring at Theon all the while— the prat is always trying to do that. 

“Stop it,” he snaps. “Gods, Theon, I just got it right.” That makes Robb double over in laughter, though Jon knows for a  _ fact  _ that he spends just as much time making sure his stupid copper curls are perfect. 

“Boys!” his mother calls, and then Jon sees her moving down the hallway as well, elbowing people out of the way with surprising force for a woman as tiny as she is. “There you are—” She stops short when she reaches them finally, sharp eyes taking in the bottle clutched in Robb’s hand. 

“Robb Stark,” she says, and Jon snickers under his breath, Theon biting back a smile as well. His mum is scarier than Uncle Ned when she gets mad. 

“Please tell me you are not  _ drinking a beer  _ right now,” she says, snatching the bottle from his hand. Robb has the decency to look abashed, at least, Theon full on laughing now. 

“Sorry, Aunt Lyanna,” he mumbles, but she just rolls her eyes at him, the anger melting away, and his cousin’s cheery grin takes over his face once again. “Just trying to get rid of those pre-show jitters.” 

“Aye, you can do that with alcohol once you’re of age,” she tells him. Her eyes scan over the rest of them, an eyebrow quirking. “You boys ready?” 

“It’s now or never, so… yeah, I suppose,” Theon says, running his hand over his guitar strap confidently. “This is what we’ve been waiting for, aye?” 

“C’mon, then, hotshots,” she says with a laugh, ruffling Robb’s hair affectionately. He does, predictably, make a noise of absolute outrage, frantically trying to right his mop of curls, and now it’s Jon’s turn to cackle. 

“Alright,” Lyanna says, leading them to the door they’ll walk out to get to the stage. Jon can hear the din of the crowd inside the bar, the raucous mix of voices and background noises filtering in and making it hard to hear. The drummer and the bass player are already on the stage— now all that’s left is for them to take their places. 

“I’ll be right over there,” his mum promises, dropping a kiss on top of his head. Jon makes a face, but in reality, he’s grateful for her support right now. His heart is pounding in his chest, a storm of butterflies making his stomach flop. 

Looking at the stage makes it seem so  _ real  _ somehow. 

“Break a leg,” Lyanna whispers, hugging both Robb and Theon tightly in turn, and then she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd. 

Now it’s just the three of them. 

“This is it,” Robb whispers, and both Jon and Theon look at him, their unofficial leader. He’d been the one to push them with this crazy dream, to make them believe that maybe they really  _ could  _ do something more than just write songs at Aunt Catelyn’s big dining room table. 

“Yeah,” Theon whispers, and it’s almost too loud to hear his words. “This is it.” 

“You really think people are going to listen?” Jon asks, giving voice to his biggest fear. The three of them had scraped enough money up to record a demo (with a lot of help from Uncle Ned), had sent it off to every music label in the whole bloody North, it feels like, and still, this is the first thing that feels  _ real.  _ They’ve been calling themselves a band for almost a year now, have been writing and singing music together for longer, but this dingy, crowded little bar in Wintertown feels like the first step towards something serious. 

Jon just hopes they’re good enough for it to pay off. 

“Hey, of course they are,” Robb says, and even if his voice  _ sounds  _ confident, Jon knows that look in his eyes, and he can figure his cousin’s stomach feels just as floppy as his does right now. 

“We can do this,” Robb says, leaning in, throwing an arm over Theon’s shoulders and another over Jon’s, pulling them both in close. “We were meant to do this.” 

“Aye,” Theon says, grinning at his best friend, then turning his eyes to Jon. “We were.” 

“So let’s go do it,” Robb says, squeezing their shoulders. “Jon?” 

He nods, and now the jitters feel different. Now they’re just excitement. He knows Robb is right— this is where the three of them belong. 

“Aye. Let’s do it,” he repeats, and the other two boys grin so wide that the three of them begin laughing again. 

“Gods, this is fucking  _ nuts,”  _ Theon manages to get out, the three of them staring at the crowd out in the bar. They’re not really sure who is actually there to see them— the people here could just be out for a regular Saturday night. It seems unlikely that they’ve somehow managed to grab the attention of all these people. 

But they will, Jon thinks. The three of them, they have something special, he knows it in his bones. 

“It really is,” Robb agrees, laughing. “Who would have thought, right?” 

“Oi, you’re the one who told us we should try to get bloody noticed!” Jon says, ribbing his cousin.  _ He  _ had been perfectly content just writing for the fun of it, until Robb had put this scheme in their heads. At first he hadn’t been so sure, but now— now he knows Robb was right. 

“Well, I know, but I wasn’t sure it would really work,” Robb admits, that charming grin spreading across his face again. Jon rolls his eyes, but he can’t fight the smile tugging at his lips either. 

“Hey,” Theon says, nodding at the stage. The bar manager is up on the stage, fiddling with the mic. “I think this is our cue.” 

“Oh gods,” Robb exhales, eyes skating over the crowd again. “Alright. Let’s go fuckin’ destroy it.” 

They lean in one last time, heads bowed together, before Robb squeezes their shoulders once more, releasing them. Jon rights the guitar hanging across his shoulder, Theon doing the same with his. 

“Alright, everyone, thank you for coming out tonight!” the manager says, his voice echoing across the bar. Robb bounces on the balls of his feet anxiously, Jon tapping the face of his guitar just to calm his nerves. 

But then he catches sight of Theon’s smile, of the glint in Robb’s eyes, and the excitement overcomes the nerves once again. 

The manager is still talking, but the words don’t register in Jon’s brain. All he can think of is the cheers of the crowd, the flash of the lights, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. 

“Please, put your hands together for our great band tonight, the  _ Almost Brothers!”  _

Jon’s heart is racing so fast he can’t think. In all his fifteen years, he’s never felt like this. 

Robb’s hand falls onto his shoulder, grounding him as he squeezes it, Theon’s as well. 

“Together?” he asks, and Jon grins, laughter falling from Theon’s lips once again. 

“Together,” Jon says, Theon nodding, and the three of them step out of the doorway and onto the stage. 

***

A few days later, Jon finally plucks up the courage to text Robb and Theon and ask them to come over. 

He paces the living room until he hears Ghost barking at the door, the doorbell ringing a second after. Throwing one last glance towards the piano, he goes to let them in. 

Gods, he’s really going to do this. 

“Jon,” Robb says when he opens the door, Theon next to him, thumbs hooked in his pocket. Robb runs a hand through his hair, the afternoon sunlight glinting on his wedding band. 

“Hi,” he says, swinging the door open wider, letting them both walk in. “I… wanted to show you something.” 

They don’t push him any farther, clearly walking on eggshells around him, scared he’ll shut them out again with one wrong word. It pains him, watching them be so reserved with him after all those years where they could tell each other anything, pour out their hearts into a song as they crowded around Theon at the piano, no fear of judgement or retribution. 

But it’s okay. He’s going to try to fix that. These seven years have been lonely, and he needs his brothers again. 

“Jon, I’m really sorry about the other day,” Theon finally says, and Jon can practically hear Robb’s sharp inhale, see his cousin hold his breath. “I shouldn’t have said that. I know it’s not that simple. That there’s… a lot more to it than that.” 

“Aye, I know,” he says, leading them into the living room. Ghost hops up on the couch and curls up, now that the excitement of new people has worn off. 

“I’m sorry for yellin’ at you,” he continues. “That wasn’t fair to you either.” 

“So what did you want to show us?” Robb asks, and there’s a sharpness to his voice, a guarded caution in his eyes. Jon realizes, then, that his cousin is just waiting for him to let them down once again. To tell them no. To put any thoughts of reviving the band to rest once and for all. 

“I wrote a song,” Jon says, watching the way Robb’s expression morphs. “Not just a garbage one like before, when I was just playin’ around. A real song.” 

It’s funny that Robb appears so thunderstruck, seeing as he was the one who had nagged Jon about writing again in the first place. It’s Theon that speaks first, that little knowing grin tugging at his lips. “Go on, then,” he says, nodding at the piano. “Play it for us.” 

Jon sits down, giving the two of them one more look, before his fingers settle over the keys, eyes darting to the notepad on top of the piano that holds all the words he’s long since memorized, etched into his mind. He exhales, focusing instead on the feeling of the keys below his fingertips, the peace that floods through him thinking of the song. 

And he plays. 

It’s that all-consuming feeling again, where he just gets completely lost in the words, in the melody. Jon doesn’t look up once while he’s playing, letting the music fill him up and the lyrics soothe his soul, both of them together chipping away a little more at the stone and iron that’s been weighing down his heart for years now. 

When he finishes, he’s met with silence. 

Waiting for the feedback isn’t something he’s had to do in years. Hesitantly, he turns to face Theon and Robb, bracing himself for their review. 

But both of them look a little blown away. “Jon,” Robb finally says, and his voice is strangled. “That’s… that’s  _ really  _ good.” 

Jon exhales, the nerves fading. That’s another thing he misses, he realizes. Having two people who know him just as well as he does. When they used to write together, there was never any fear to share anything, regardless of how stupid or brilliant it may be. They knew each other so well, maps of their souls and their hearts imprinted on his own. 

“Aye?” he asks, still seeking confirmation. It  _ feels  _ good to him, but he’s still not sure. 

Even after all this time, their opinions are really the only ones he cares about. 

“Yeah,” Theon confirms with a nod, a little shell-shocked. “It’s bloody brilliant.” 

“Thanks,” Jon says, shoulders sagging. He hesitates, not sure whether or not to continue, but— it’s like he said. They know each others’ souls. And if they’re going to do this again, he has to be honest with the both of them. 

“It’s about Dany,” he admits, and both Robb and Theon look at him sharply, but he keeps going. “I dunno. I was trying to just forget, push it away, and keep livin’ in denial. But then I saw those bloody photos of her and all her new friends all over King’s Landing, and something in me just… clicked. And I wrote this, and then,” he says, exhaling, “there was this massive weight that lifted off my shoulders.” 

He glances at the two of them, worrying his lip. “I dunno if doing this will help me forget about her. Or if that’s even possible. But,” he sighs, “I think it’s about time I tried. Stopped hidin’ in the past.” Jon shakes his head. “I can’t keep lettin’ her haunt me. I don’t want to think about her anymore, or let her keep gettin’ to me like this. I can’t let her not being here keep defining me. I just want to have somethin’ important in my life again.” 

“I—” Robb says, eyes full of that awful hope again. “What are you sayin’, Jon?” 

He takes a deep breath, facing the both of them. “I’m sayin’ that I know I’m different than I used to be. But we all are,” he admits. “And if you want to try again, I will.” 

“You will?” Theon says, and his expression is just like Robb’s. 

Jon nods. “I want to do this. I  _ need  _ to do this.” His eyes dart between Robb and Theon, and all he can think of are the days when the two of them and their music were all he needed in the world. He wants to find that again, desperately. 

“Sittin’ here and just going through the motions isn’t doin’ any good. And _this—_ singing, writing songs— this I know. Maybe if I just start focusing on the music, and forget about all the other _shit_ in my life, we can do this again.” 

“Aye,” Robb says, and for once, there’s a glint of hope in his eyes as he looks at Jon. It reminds him of the way they used to be, back before the band had broken up. 

“Let’s do this,” Robb continues. “Not for the fans, or for the record sales, or the tours, or  _ anything  _ but ourselves. I don’t bloody care if we make an album and it only sells ten copies, or if we can’t fill a single arena on tour to save our lives.” He exhales, looking between them. “Let’s just make music, because it’s what we’re meant to do together.” 

Theon smirks, eyeing Robb, then Jon. “I’m in as well,” he says, nodding definitively. “So is that it? We’re back together?” 

“I guess we are,” Jon says, and his heart feels lighter, some of the weight that’s been crushing down on him for so long lifting at last. He laughs, then, the uncertain hope in his chest too much to contain, his joy bubbling out. Robb looks baffled at the sound, but then a wide grin stretches across his face, like what’s just happened is finally sinking in. 

Theon joins in too, all three of them laughing and giddy with energy, just like they were when they were teenagers and they signed their first record deal. He looks between the two men before him— his friends, his bandmates, his  _ brothers.  _ And this, well… this feels like a new beginning, finally. 

For a moment, it’s all wonderfully, blissfully perfect. And then Theon’s phone chirps, and he digs it out of his pocket, eyes narrowing as he reads whatever’s on his screen. 

“What?” Robb asks curiously. Theon doesn’t answer, eyes glued to the screen, before they widen almost comically, his jaw dropping. 

“Holy fucking shit,” he whispers. Now Robb looks concerned, leaning over to see his phone. 

“What is it?” Jon asks, that euphoria fading away, standing from the piano bench. Robb rolls his eyes, giving Theon a dirty look. 

“Put that away,” he says, crossing his arms. “Didn’t you listen to a  _ word  _ Jon just said, seven hells—” 

“Sansa just sent it to me,” Theon says, eyes darting up warily. “It’s about Daenerys.” 

Jon’s heart turns to lead, sinking in his chest, but he tries to push off the pain. Like he’d said, he’s sick of living with past ghosts. It’s been seven years, and he needs to start learning to get rid of them so that they can’t haunt him forever. 

Dany is certainly the biggest one of those ghosts. 

Jon laughs coldly. “Is she doin’ another pap walk?” he says, voice bitter. “Gods know I’ve seen her photographed on every street of King’s Landing in the past few weeks.” 

“Theon, fucking hells, it  _ doesn’t matter,”  _ Robb insists, his voice almost desperate. “Just put it away.” 

Theon still looks completely thunderstruck, eyes darting up to Jon, full of trepidation. “Jon, I’m sorry, but… I think you have to see this.” 

“I really don’t want to,” Jon mutters, teeth clenched together. “I’m tryin’ to forget about her.” Though clearly, that’s going fucking  _ wonderfully  _ so far. 

“I know,” Theon says, wincing. “Just trust me, okay?” 

Jon sighs, taking the phone from Theon’s hands, ignoring Robb’s protests. 

It’s a video tweeted out by E!, which already makes Jon suspicious, as they’re probably responsible for spewing most of the false rumors surrounding the band’s breakup. But even a few seconds in, he can tell this is different from all the clearly planned photos of her out and about with all her new Hollywood friends. It’s just her and Missandei, for one, surrounded by a small crowd of paparazzi and fans as they walk out of a building. Dany’s wearing sunglasses and has her hair tied back, her outfit nondescript. Clearly she was hoping not to be seen. 

Even then, Jon’s seen her ambushed by paps plenty of times, and she always seems sunny and happy, that facade thrown up immediately. She never lets the public see how she really feels. But right now— she looks scared and angry and on edge, like a cornered animal about to lash out. 

His brow furrows as he watches, Missandei’s head ducked, eyes trained on something below the video frame. “Please, not now,” Dany says graciously, but he can hear the bitter undertones of her voice that no one else can. He knows her better than anyone. 

Or, well. He  _ did,  _ at least. 

“Theon, why am I watchin’ this?” he says, heart throbbing dully as he watches her try to field off the press. If this is just some sick torture device to get him to backslide, well, it’s fucking working. 

“Just wait,” Theon says grimly. Jon makes a face at him, eyes flitting back down to the screen, and the ache in his chest just grows.

One of the people with cameras lunges closer, yelling something inaudible, and Jon can see Dany’s barely-there composure snap. She turns back to Missandei, eyes like fire, leaning over to pick something up. But Jon blinks in confusion when she stands back up, because there’s a— she’s holding a little girl? 

“You stay the fuck away from my daughter,” Dany spits, clutching the girl close to her body, and Jon’s stomach  _ drops.  _

“Come on,” Missandei says, just as agitated, stepping in front of Dany and elbowing their way through the crowd. There’s a car waiting for them at the curb, and the paparazzi scramble after her, yelling questions that Jon can’t even hear. 

It’s like at the café weeks ago, and everything sounds like he’s underwater again. He can’t even register Robb next to him, crowding in closer to see for himself, because the world has gone blurry, fading and stretching out, everything but the screen of the phone out of focus. 

Right before they climb in the car, Dany still looking like she’s about to unleash torture upon all the paparazzi, the little girl in her arms lifts her head, looking around in confusion. Dany smooths a hand over her back, but the girl’s eyes land on the camera, and that horrible, nagging suspicion in Jon’s brain morphs into certainty, the wind knocked out of his lungs. 

Even with the shitty video quality, he can see that the little girl’s eyes are a dark, stormy grey.

He takes the rest of her in then. She looks about five or six years old, and she’s almost an exact copy of Dany, except for those eyes. And her hair— even if it’s the same silver color he knows so well, her curls don’t match her mother’s gentle waves. They’re wilder, Dany trying to smooth them back as they climb in the car. 

They’re the same as his. 

“Holy fucking shit,” he mumbles, echoing Theon. He thinks he hears Robb say something, but everything is garbled, out of focus. The video ends with Missandei slamming the car door closed, and Jon stumbles backwards, the back of his knees hitting the piano bench, sitting down so he doesn’t completely lose his balance. The world around him seems to be swaying as the truth of what he just saw hits him. 

That little girl is his, he knows it in his soul. 

He has a daughter. 

One Dany never told him about. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from [Used to Be.](https://youtu.be/kkdMUZMT90E)


	2. I just saw the lightning strike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon’s ears are ringing. 
> 
> It’s like static on a television, like a radio with the signal cut off. Vaguely, he registers Theon pry his phone out of his fingers, but anything the other two men might be saying is completely lost on him. 
> 
> Instead, the reality of what he just saw overwhelms him. 
> 
> He has a daughter. A daughter. Dany left Westeros pregnant with his child and never saw fit to tell him. 
> 
> Gods, did she know when she left? If she had, would she have stayed? All of a sudden there are more unanswered questions taunting him, digging their claws into his mind. 
> 
> Robb is saying something— even with his ears filled with static, the only discernible sound he can make out the pounding of his heart, he can see his cousin’s mouth moving. Jon looks at him dimly, and it’s like his brain and body are no longer connected. 
> 
> He has a daughter he’s never met. A child who was hidden from him on the other side of the fucking world while he remained ignorant to her existence. 
> 
> Any anger towards Dany from before multiples tenfold. Now he’s not just mad at her for leaving and never coming back. Now, he’s furious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO AGAIN! I come bearing more angst. Um, sorry, I guess. 
> 
> Thank you all SO much for the warm and wonderful response to last chapter! I'm so glad you all enjoyed it, and I hope this chapter answers some questions you might have had. (it will probably also leave you with even more, WHOOPS.) 
> 
> A million billion thanks to my fantastic betas, Fer and Giulia, as always, and to Alice for the beautiful BEAUTIFUL moodboard. It is truly a work of art and I am in love with it. 
> 
> I was supposed to be somewhere ten minutes ago and am consequently scrambling to post this SO I'll keep it short and sweet today. I hope you enjoy, and I'd love to hear what you think, so drop me a comment! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50316393996/in/dateposted-public/)

Jon’s ears are ringing. 

It’s like static on a television, like a radio with the signal cut off. Vaguely, he registers Theon pry his phone out of his fingers, but anything the other two men might be saying is completely lost on him. 

Instead, the reality of what he just saw overwhelms him. 

He has a daughter. A  _ daughter.  _ Dany left Westeros pregnant with his  _ child  _ and never saw fit to tell him. 

Gods, did she know when she left? If she had, would she have stayed? All of a sudden there are more unanswered questions taunting him, digging their claws into his mind. 

Robb is saying something— even with his ears filled with static, the only discernible sound he can make out the pounding of his heart, he can see his cousin’s mouth moving. Jon looks at him dimly, and it’s like his brain and body are no longer connected. 

He has a daughter he’s never met. A child who was hidden from him on the other side of the fucking world while he remained ignorant to her existence. 

Any anger towards Dany from before multiples tenfold. Now he’s not just mad at her for leaving and never coming back. Now, he’s  _ furious.  _

“I have to go,” Jon says, and it’s then that his ears decide to start working, the static fading. He stands up, the piano bench sliding backwards on the hardwood. Robb and Theon blink at him, dumbstruck. 

“Go… where?” Theon asks, eyes narrowing. “Er… this is your house. Do you want  _ us  _ to go?” 

“No,” Jon says, and his mind is still a fog, but there’s one clear thought in the haze. “I have to go find Dany.” 

“Jon,” Robb says, holding out a hand, as if to stop him. “D’you really think that’s a good idea?” Theon shoots his best friend a sharp look, which Robb ignores. 

“I don’t care,” Jon insists. “I need to see her.” 

“How is that going to make anything better?” Robb asks, and there’s a desperate edge to his voice. “What about everythin’ you just said? About  _ forgetting  _ Dany, leavin’ her in the past?” 

“That was before I knew I had a bloody daughter!” Jon snaps. Theon looks down at the ground, Robb’s brow furrowing in confusion. 

“Wait a minute,” his cousin says. “I— you think she’s  _ yours?  _ How can you possibly know that?” 

“Did you  _ see  _ her, Robb?” he demands. “She’s mine, I know it.” 

Theon glances at his best friend. “I’m with Jon here, mate,” he says. “She looks like him.  _ Too  _ much, really. It’s got to be.” 

“Jon,” Robb pleads. “I think you’re jumpin’ to conclusions, here. Wasn’t Dany… y’know, with that other bloke right after she left?” 

Anger flares in his chest once again at that harsh reminder, mental images of tabloid photos coming back to haunt him. Fucking  _ Daario. _ Robb has a point, but still, there’s an unwavering certainty in his heart— he knows the truth of what he’d just seen. 

“I know she’s mine,” Jon snaps. “I just  _ do.”  _ He glares at his cousin. “Are you tellin’ me that you wouldn’t know Rose or Ben are yours just from seein’ them?” 

Robb quiets at that, hesitating. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he says, and it sounds like a warning. “I don’t think seein’ her again will be good for you.” 

Jon huffs in humorless laughter, eyes narrowing. Even after all these years, he can still tell what Robb  _ really  _ means, even if he won’t say it. 

“Good for me, or good for the fuckin’ band?” he demands. Robb doesn’t have an answer for that, Theon’s eyes darting between the two of them like he’s watching a fuse about to blow. 

“I have to go,” he repeats again. “I have to see my daughter.” 

The word still feels foreign and strange on his tongue. Theon and Robb both blink at him, because while they might have seen the video as well, he can tell it sounds just as bizarre to them. 

“Jon—” Robb repeats, but Jon’s already moving, grabbing his keys off the counter. Theon stands there, frozen, but Robb follows him. 

“No, Robb, I need to leave,” Jon insists. That’s the only certainty in his mind right now. Shoving his phone in his pocket, he heads for the front door, vaguely registering that Robb is still gawking at him. 

He moves like he’s on autopilot, pulling the door of his car open and climbing into the front seat as he dials the number on his phone. 

“Jon?” Sansa answers a moment later, and her voice is too high-pitched, edging on nervous. She knows what he wants. 

“Where is she, Sansa?” he asks, and his cousin hesitates. “I know you know.” 

He can hear Sansa exhale. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to go running over there right now?” she asks, and Jon hates how cautious everyone is trying to be right now. How do they not understand what that video means? How do they expect him to do anything else? 

“A good idea?” he demands, voice growing tight with anger. “What the hells else am I supposed to do, Sansa? I have a  _ daughter  _ and Dany never told me about her.” 

Sansa doesn’t say anything, but Jon inhales sharply. Gods, what a fucking mess this is. He knew Dany being back here would be a disaster, but he didn’t think it would be one of  _ this  _ magnitude. 

His cousin’s prolonged silence puts another alarming thought in his head. “Did you know?” he asks, probably harsher than he should. He knows Sansa never shut Dany out of her life like the rest of them did. If she knew about this… 

“Gods, Jon, no,” she says, voice choked. “I… we’ve been friends still, all these years, but— I would never keep something like this from you.” 

He exhales, heart still pounding. That makes him feel at least a little better. 

“She’s on the other side of Rhaenys' Hill,” Sansa finally says, voice quiet. “I have her address. I can text it to you.” 

Jon sighs, eyes squeezing closed. “Thank you,” he says to his cousin, before hanging up. Her message comes through a second later, and Jon squints at it for a moment, before he puts the car in drive and pulls out of his gated driveway. 

The drive is an absolute blur— it’s like one second he’s at his house, and the next he’s pulling up in front of Dany’s. There’s a gate at the beginning of the driveway, but it opens when he pushes the button, so he pulls in, slamming on the brakes and throwing the car into park at the end of the driveway.

He has no idea what he’s going to say, he realizes, as he pounds on the door. The house is smaller than his, but it’s nice, elegant stone and glass. Gods, when did she have time to buy a fucking house? Had she been planning on coming back that long? 

There’s no answer, so Jon knocks again. 

It’s then that he hears the shift of a lock, the click of the handle turning. And then the door swings open and standing there is—  _ gods.  _

He really should have considered how seeing Dany in person again would affect him. 

It’s like he’s been hit in the stomach, the air leaving his lungs in one big whoosh. 

It’s different seeing her now than seeing photographs online. Her eyes widen, and gods, they’re still the exact same shade of amethyst that’s burned into his memory. 

She’s beautiful. So fucking beautiful. The pictures he’d seen don’t do her justice— they never do. Her hair is a bit shorter, the angles of her face a bit sharper, but then, he looks older too. Gods, they’d practically been kids when she had left. Even if she’s older now, she’s still the girl he’d fallen in love with, all those years ago. 

She’s still the girl who completely shattered his heart and left him behind, bleeding out. 

“Jon,” she says, and hearing her voice again for the first time in seven years is like a knife to the gut. 

“Dany,” he echoes, like he’s caught in a trance. The pain in his heart is blinding, white hot, just like it had been the day she’d left. 

Maybe he  _ should  _ have thought this through before coming here. 

“What are you doing here?” she says, and he can hear the apprehension in her voice as well. The way she looks at him, it’s like she’s staring at a ghost. 

For a moment, he wonders if it’s all an act, and Dany missed him as much as he missed her. 

And then it comes back. The video. The girl. 

“You know what I’m doin’ here,” he says, voice rough, the pain bleeding into anger again. Dany’s eyes narrow, crossing her arms defiantly. 

“I really don’t,” she snaps back. “Care to enlighten me?” 

“She’s mine, isn’t she?” he demands, and Dany freezes. 

Jon doesn’t need to hear her answer. The look on her face is confirmation enough. 

“What the  _ fuck,  _ Dany?” he says, and her eyes are wide, arms wrapping tightly around herself. “What in the seven hells—” 

“Jon, can we not have this fight right now?” she says, practically a whisper. “Just— gods, come inside, alright?” 

Before he can protest Dany is pulling the door open wider, and him in after her. A jolt shoots through him at the feel of her hand closing around his wrist, skin on skin. He wonders if she feels it too, just from the way she drops his arm as quickly as she can, like he had burned her. 

The door clicks shut once again, and she faces him, arms crossed against her chest. Her face may be hardened, but he can see that terror lurking in her eyes. She’s excellent at putting on a face for the rest of the world, fooling everyone when she’s in front of the camera, but Jon always could see past the facade. 

“So you saw the video,” she infers with a sigh. “I’m really sorry, Jon. I’ve been so careful with her, and those bloody paps  _ ambushed  _ me, and I— that’s not how I wanted you to find out.” 

“Oh, is that so?” he retorts, words scathing. “Because it seems to me you  _ never  _ wanted me to find out.” 

Her eyes narrow, lips falling open to argue back, but Jon’s done listening. “What the  _ fuck  _ is wrong with you?” he repeats. “Did you just think it wasn’t worth mentionin’ to me that I have a fucking  _ daughter?”  _

“Jon, that’s not fair—” she begins. 

“How? How is that not fair?” He shakes his head, hand clenching in a fist. “Almost seven years, you kept this from me.  _ That’s _ what’s not fair.” 

Dany’s eyes are fiery, hands falling to her hips. “What did you want me to do?! Call you up when I found out and you were on your  _ world fucking tour?  _ ‘Hi, Jon, I know I just moved halfway across the planet and you’re busy being a rock star and also  _ furious  _ with me, but I’m having your baby?’” 

“That would have been a good start,” he snaps. “Certainly better than me having to find out from fuckin’  _ E News  _ seven years later. _ ”  _

She shakes her head, violet eyes looking up at the ceiling in aggravation. “You had just broken my heart. Sorry if I wasn’t exactly excited at the prospect of  _ that  _ phone call.” 

Jon blinks at her, anger seizing his heart and squeezing, the pain white hot. “I had just broken  _ your  _ heart,” he says, incredulous. She has the nerve to fucking accuse  _ him  _ of this when it was her that— 

“You might not understand, but I had my reasons for not telling you,” she insists, voice like steel. “I was alone in a foreign country,  _ miserable,  _ missing you—”

“Missing—” Jon trails off, his thoughts racing too fast for him to process. “Dany,” he snaps, glaring at her. “Don’t pin that on me.  _ You _ were the one who left!” 

“And you were the one who made me!” There are tears in her eyes now, mouth a thin line, and it makes him quiet for a moment. 

Once upon a time, he would have done anything to keep her from looking like that. 

“I couldn’t bear to tell you, Jon,” she says. “I had already lost…  _ everything.  _ I know it was selfish, but I didn’t want to hear you say I was on my own again.” 

He’s at a loss for words at that. “Wait,” he says, shaking his head, trying to gain some sense of clarity. “I… you thought I wouldn’t want to be there?” She doesn’t say anything, worrying her lip instead, and now the anger comes back. “Why in the seven hells would you assume that?”

“You were in the middle of a tour, remember?” she points out, and the fire is back in her eyes as well. “Sorry if I didn’t think you’d be chomping at the bit to drop everything and come help your ex girlfriend raise a  _ baby  _ at twenty-three.” 

“Still, that wasn’t your decision to make!” he snaps. “Of course I would want to be there!” He runs a hand through his hair agitatedly. “Gods, I can’t fuckin’ believe this. I— all this time, and I never…” He turns his eyes on Dany again, brows furrowing. “I don’t care what you thought you were sparin’ yourself. I deserved to know.” 

She sighs, looking completely done. “We both deserved a lot of things, okay, Jon? It’s done. There’s no changing it now.” 

He’s ready to argue with her more, but then his eye catches on something past her shoulder, in her living room. Coloring books, on the table. And a pile of stuffed animals tossed together on the sofa. 

This isn’t some theoretical thing, some what-if situation they’re discussing. This is a real  _ child.  _ He has a physical, living and breathing daughter, and fighting with her mother isn’t going to get him any closer to meeting her. 

A horrifying thought hits him then. 

“Does she know about me?” Jon asks, and his throat gets tighter involuntarily, words choked. “Does… does she think I left her?” 

The gods, if they even exist, truly are cruel, to inflict upon his own daughter what his father had done to him. Jon never knew more about him than a name and whatever fleeting details his mother offered up. He hadn’t stuck around long enough to be any sort of part of his life besides that. And Jon had had Uncle Ned, and his mother, but still… there’d always been that part of him that couldn’t help feeling unwanted and abandoned, even with all the family he  _ did  _ have. 

Fuck, that’s the  _ last  _ thing he wants for his little girl. 

“She… sort of knows,” Dany says, worrying her lip again. “She doesn’t think you left. She knows you exist, and that you just can’t be with us because you live far away. And that you… love her,” she mumbles, glancing at him through dark lashes, as if waiting for him to rebut that. 

“Of course I do,” he exhales. He laughs, almost humorlessly. “Gods, I don’t even know her name, do I? But of course I love her.” 

Dany smiles, just a bit. “It’s Rhaella,” she tells him, crossing her arms again, almost like she’s hugging herself. Protecting herself. “For my mum.” 

He pauses for a moment, taking that in. It’s a pretty name, he’d always thought. And Dany’s mother is one of the sweetest women he’s ever met. 

_ Though she probably hates you now, for knocking up her daughter and then abandoning her,  _ his mind cruelly points out.

“Is she in school yet?” Jon asks, deflecting, and Dany nods. 

“She just turned six last month.” 

“How the hells did you not raise any flags with the name  _ Rhaella Targaryen?”  _ he says, almost incredulous. “That’s not exactly… discreet.” 

Dany worries her lip again, and now she looks nervous. “Well, she goes by Ella,” she explains. “And… her last name is Snow.” 

He blinks at her, caught in a stupor again. “You put my name on the birth certificate?” Dany doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to. He can see it in her eyes. 

“Fucking  _ hells,  _ Dany,” he mutters, head a jumbled mess again. This is all too much to process. “I—”

Jon doesn’t know what else to say, so he turns instead, pacing up and down her living room. “I can’t believe you would do something this selfish,” he finally settles on, anger bubbling up in his chest again. He knows that provoking her further is probably a bad idea, but he can’t help it. The fury he feels is like a beast inside him, clawing at his heart with razor sharp talons. And a sadistic part of him wants to make her hurt as much as he does right now. 

“All you ever think about anymore is you, isn’t it?” he adds, and Dany’s eyes snap to his, her expression steeled and unflinching and _furious._

“How dare you,” she says, voice low with rage. “I— everything I have done these past seven years, I’ve done for her. You have  _ no idea,  _ Jon. The hoops I have jumped through, the things I have sacrificed, just to raise her and make sure she’s safe, keep her out of the public eye. My reasons for not telling you may have been selfish, but every other decision in my entire  _ life  _ I have made while thinking of my daughter’s wellbeing.” 

“Really?” Jon asks snidely. “So keeping her father out of her life was for the best?” 

“Come on, Jon,” she retorts, eyes like embers. “If the tabloids are to be believed, you were in no position to be a father those first few years of her life.” 

Jon recoils; it feels as if Dany had physically slapped him. The worst part about it, he realizes, is that she’s not wrong. But if he had  _ known—  _ if he had been there, helped raise his daughter, had something in his life to live for— maybe he wouldn’t have even tried to drink himself to death. 

“Is that what you told her?” he snaps, voice low and rough with fury. “That her dad couldn’t be there because he was a raging alcoholic across the narrow sea?” 

Dany huffs, looking at him with a deathly glare. “No,” she says. “For the record, I’ve never spoken a  _ single  _ bad word about you to her. She loves you. She’s always wanted to know you. You’re like a hero to her.” 

Jon rolls his eyes. “Oh, well, in that case. I suppose I should be grateful, aye?” She glares at him, her face a hard mask of barely-contained rage. It only fuels the fire in his belly, makes the fury he harbors there burn hotter. “Not being vilified to my daughter is practically the same as bein’ allowed to know she exists. Though I suppose me bein’ there would have ruined your perfect new life in Essos, wouldn’t it.” 

Dany looks at him, inhaling, her nostrils flaring. “Don’t you  _ dare—”  _ she points at him accusingly, and Jon thinks if people could breathe fire, that’s what she would be doing now. “Don’t you  _ dare  _ assume you know what my life has been like since I left.”

“I dunno,” Jon spits, anger controlling his thoughts now. “You got your fancy television role. You got the fame and fortune you were always lookin’ for. You got all your bullshit awards. Seems like your life turned out  _ exactly  _ like you wanted it.” 

“Fuck you, Jon,” Dany spits, her eyes watering again, red with rage. “You know  _ damn  _ well that’s not true.” Her lip trembles, and for a moment, Jon can see past the hardened facade, and catches a glimpse of the woman beneath. Broken, bleeding, beaten down, just like him. Putting on a show for the rest of the world. 

But her arms cross, and her eyes steel, and he thinks maybe it was just an illusion after all. 

“I wanted you too,” she hisses. “That was all I really wanted, in truth.” 

Jon shakes his head, because that makes  _ no fucking sense.  _ If she wanted him she wouldn’t have left. She wouldn’t have taken the job in Essos and never come back. She would have  _ been here,  _ not off roaming the streets of Pentos with her new costars, or laughing on every talk show in the country. 

“Then why did you leave?” he demands, almost desperately. That’s the answer he’s been looking for all these years, really. “Why did you choose the part over me?” 

“Because you  _ made it a choice!” _ Dany practically screams. A tear slips down her cheek. “I wanted both, but you made me choose. And for once, I actually thought about  _ my  _ dreams and not just yours.” 

Jon stands there, dumbstruck, trying to rationalize her words. Did he… hells, did he force her hand into choosing either him or the TV part? He hadn’t meant to do that. Gods, all he’d wanted was for Dany to be happy, to achieve her dreams. He just didn’t want her to leave him, either. Had he unknowingly issued some ultimatum that she had understood and he hadn’t? 

Desperately, he tries to think back, to remember her leaving. But it was so long ago, and he’d spent the years following her departure in a drunken haze, trying to drown out the pain. Everything from before he’d gone to rehab is fuzzy and distant. 

He can’t have done that. He’d never make Dany choose between him or a role that could launch her career. A role that she’d been waiting for for  _ years.  _ All he’d wanted was for the rest of the world to see how talented she was, give her the credit she was due. Maybe… maybe that was just how she had to justify it to herself, when she’d made the choice to leave. 

“Dany,” he starts, and even though the fight is gone from his voice, she still looks ready to go to battle.

“No, I’m done,” she says, shaking her head. She blinks rapidly, trying to brush away her fallen tears subtly. It makes his heart squeeze, an engrained reaction to seeing her sad leftover from another lifetime. “You can hate me for keeping Ella from you; that I understand. But I won’t stand here and keep letting you accuse  _ me  _ of being the villain. Not when you broke my heart just as much as I broke yours.” Her eyes flit up to his, still a little red. “I think you should go now.” 

“What?” Jon sputters, anger flaring again. “I’m not leavin’. I want to meet her.” 

“No,” Dany says, crossing her arms, words like steel. She opens her mouth to keep talking, but he cuts her off. 

“No?” he asks, incredulous. “What do you mean,  _ no?  _ I— she’s my bloody  _ child,  _ Dany, and I have a right to her!” Jon barrels on, refusing to let her butt in. “Six years of her life, you took from me! I’m goin’ to be there for her now, godsdammit. And you have no right to stop me. Not after what you did.” 

Dany rolls her eyes, like he’s being a petulant child. It reminds him so much of the way Arya looks at him sometimes it momentarily silences him. “I don’t mean no as in _never,_ Jon,” she bites back. “If I didn’t want you in her life I would have stayed in bloody Pentos. I just mean not _now._ She’s not even here right now; she’s out with my mum.” She exhales, crossing her arms defensively. “And I can’t— I can’t argue anymore. If you hate me, fine, but I won’t let you take it out on Ella.” Dany pauses again, biting her lip. “She… loves you, and I won’t have the image she has of you in her head be ruined by our fighting.” 

“I don’t…” Jon starts, trailing off, not sure how to finish. As desperately as he wants to meet her, maybe that’s not a…  _ terrible  _ idea. His heart is still pumping, anger at Dany bubbling right under the surface, and he doesn’t want that to be present when it comes to his daughter. 

“Alright,” he concedes, and Dany blinks at him for a moment, like she can’t quite believe he agreed. “When can I come back?” 

“I don’t know,” Dany says. “I… maybe tomorrow.” 

“Alright,” Jon says, and he looks at her again,  _ really  _ looks at her. As pissed off at her as he is, it’s hard not to see how little and beaten down she looks. She’s practically curled in on herself, a defense against his harsh words. And while she may have deserved them— gods, there’s still a part of him that remembers what it was like to love her with everything he had. To want to protect her from anything that made her feel small. 

“I… let me know when you’re ready,” he says, the anger ebbing, and Dany’s eyes widen, vulnerability seeping in. 

“Thank you,” she whispers. Jon just nods, turning back towards the door, letting himself out. 

The image of Dany with her arms wrapped around herself, eyes dim and scared and wet with tears, haunts him the entire drive home. 

***

The driveway is empty when Jon arrives back home, Theon and Robb clearly having left while he was gone. The only sound when he opens his front door is the clacking of Ghost’s nails on the hardwood as he races down the hall. 

“Hey, bud,” Jon says, leaning over to ruffle his dog’s ears, gently pushing past him so he can toss his keys back on the counter. Ghost stays at his heels, practically bouncing up and down as he follows Jon. 

“You’ve got too much energy,” Jon says with a chuckle. “Wanna go outside?” 

Jon takes his bolt for the back sliding door as a yes. 

The late autumn sunshine is still unnaturally warm to Jon, even after all these years of living in King’s Landing. That’s the thing he misses the most about the North— the sharp, biting air, the way the sun doesn’t burn you the moment you step outside. Gods, he hasn’t been back in years now. His mother keeps telling him to visit or to move home, now that nothing’s tying him to Hollywood, but going back to Winterfell still somehow feels like defeat. 

Ghost races in circles around the backyard, yipping happily as Jon chuckles at his dog’s antics, taking a seat in one of the pool chairs he’s set in the shade. When he’d bought this house after he got out of rehab, Arya had teased him for getting a tiny little mansion basically hidden in the mountains, but now he’s more than grateful for the privacy. He doesn’t even really have neighbors up here, the next house down so far away that he never has to worry about people peering over his hedge for a glimpse of him. And the view of the mountains and the valley below is truly beautiful from the pool. 

It doesn’t take long for Ghost to track down one of his many tennis balls, prancing through the grass with it gripped in his teeth so he can drop it at Jon’s feet. Jon smiles absentmindedly at his dog, tossing it and watching as he chases it to the opposite side of the yard. Ghost has always been able to make him feel better, even when he’s lost in the absolute depths of his despair. 

This whole…  _ situation  _ is still sort of impossible to wrap his mind around. Two hours ago he hadn’t even known he had a daughter, and now— 

He wants to be there for her, that much he knows. He wants to give her everything she deserves, make sure she knows how much he loves her. But gods, he’d never even  _ considered  _ kids when he was younger. He and Dany had never talked about it before. And after she’d left there’d been no reason to think about it with anyone else. 

Jon sighs, burying his face in his hands. How the hells is he going to do this? He doesn’t know the first thing about being a father. And he wants to be a  _ good  _ one to Ella. That’s the least she deserves from him, after he wasn’t even there for the first part of her life. Regardless of whether or not it’s his fault he was absent, he wants her to know that he’s there now. That he always will be. 

Ghost nudges at his hands, Jon looking up to see his dog peering at him with big doleful eyes, ball in his mouth once again. He smiles halfheartedly, taking the ball when Ghost offers it and tossing it across the yard. But his dog seems to sense his distress, because instead he jumps up on the chair, curling up in Jon’s lap like he’s a cocker spaniel and not a hundred pound shepherd. 

“Agh, Ghost,” Jon says, wincing as his dog steps on what’s probably his spleen in his quest to lick his face. He can’t help but laugh, because he used to do that when he was a puppy too, back when he was a much more manageable size for a lap dog. 

“What am I gonna do, boy?” Jon murmurs, petting Ghost’s flank as he settles down in his lap, head resting on his other arm. “I have… no bloody  _ clue  _ how to be what Ella needs me to be.” 

Ghost whines, like he can hear Jon’s thoughts whirling around in his brain. “I guess at least I have some practice takin’ care of you,” he murmurs, looking down at his snowy white dog. “Not really the same as a little girl, but I think it has to count for somethin’.” 

Fuck, he’s so completely out of his element here. Never in a million years would he have ever imagined he’d end up  _ here.  _ And now he just has… no clue how to move forward. 

And then there’s the band, as well. Gods, what does he do about that? It’s probably a good idea to have some sort of outlet to distract him from how fucking  _ angry  _ he is with Dany, but being a band is time consuming as all hells, he knows. It’s endless days poring over music, hours spent shut up in recording studios, flying across the country to promote albums, touring for months on end and living out of a suitcase. It’s hardly a stable lifestyle for supporting a child. He can’t even begin to fathom how that would work with Ella now. 

Jon sighs again, shoulders sagging, his fight with Dany flashing through his mind once more. He still can’t believe how  _ horrifically  _ selfish she’d been, making assumptions and hiding the truth from him. Gods, he’d loved her with everything he’d had once upon a time. He never would have believed her capable of something like this. 

The look on her face when she’d told him to leave is still burned into his eyelids, dancing through his vision every time he closes his eyes. She’d looked so small. So broken. It makes him wonder about her words. If they’d been true, or just another trick. 

_ You broke my heart just as much as I broke yours.  _

Could that possibly be true? He’d seen her in all of those photos. Happy, smiling, living the life she’d always dreamed of. She looked wonderful and overjoyed and like everything was  _ perfect.  _

Was she really hurting as much as him? Jon had always known she was a bloody brilliant actress. He’d just never thought he’d have to discern whether or not her real life was a performance. 

Gods, just thinking about it makes his stomach twist in knots. It’s impossible to sort out, and trying to only makes him more confused. There’s only one thing he’s certain of, and that’s the anger curled deep in his belly, making his heart pound and his vision redden just at the thought of what she’d done. 

Keeping his daughter from him, denying him the right to even know her— what kind of sick joke is that? Claiming it was for the best, that everything she did was for Ella’s sake… it’s all bullshit, and it makes him even more mad. Dany leaving had cut him so deeply he’d almost bled out. But the anger that seizes him when he thinks that he missed the first six years of his daughter’s life due to Dany’s selfishness— it’s an entirely different animal, something barely contained, ripping at him with its razor sharp claws, determined to escape. 

It’s dangerous, and dark, and it scares him, just a little. He’d let rage like that rule him once before, and it had almost cost him his life. 

Jon exhales, trying to push it aside. There’s one certainty here— despite Dany’s mistakes, and whatever his own may be, he has a daughter, and he wants to be there for her. He can’t do that if he lets his emotion rule him again, pull him into a dark place, make him do things he regrets. 

He hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol since he got out of rehab, but he also hasn’t felt anything so strong and dangerous as the anger he feels now since Dany left. 

He can’t be that if he wants to be a good father. That’s what he has to focus on now. Ella. Everything else is… inconsequential. An afterthought. 

Ghost sighs in his lap, and Jon has to chuckle at how dramatic his dog sounds. “Aye, me too,” he agrees, ruffling his ears. “I don’t have a fuckin’ clue what to do, boy.” 

Ghost doesn’t seem to have an answer, because he climbs out of Jon’s lap, headbutting his knee one more time before he races off across the lawn again. His mind is still reeling even as he watches his dog, refusing to settle. For the longest time, everything about his life had been monotonous. The same routine, day to day. And now all of a sudden the entire world seems to be upside down. 

It hits him, then. What he should really be doing right now. 

Jon throws the ball for Ghost again when he brings it back, digging his cell phone out of his pocket with his other hand. He searches his contacts for the number he hasn’t dialed in months, pressing call and holding it up to his ear as it rings. 

“Hello?” the voice on the other end says, and Jon’s shoulders sag in relief, his thoughts already feeling a little less jumbled at the soothing, familiar tone of voice that answers him. 

“Hi, Mum,” Jon says. “Can you talk?” 

***

He wakes up the next morning to about eighteen text messages, and only one of them from an unknown number. 

Groaning, he rolls over in his bed, shoving Ghost back to his side, eliciting a disgruntled growl. Jon loves his dog more than anything, but  _ gods  _ is he a bed hog.

He blinks hazily, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he squints at his phone screen. About half of the messages are from Theon and Robb, which he ignores. He’ll figure out what the fuck to tell them about the band and whether or not his decision still stands later. 

The message at the top catches his eye, the unknown number listed across the top. His heart jolts as he reads the two sentences in succession:  _ Do you want to come over at 11 today? _ followed by  _ It’s Dany.  _

He responds  _ yes  _ without even thinking, sitting up straight in bed. Then he remembers to look at the time it is now, relaxing a bit when he realizes it isn’t even nine. 

Others take him, in a little over two hours he’s going to meet his daughter. 

It’s a completely different feeling than yesterday, when he’d gotten in the car on autopilot and driven without consideration. Now he has time to— think about it.  _ Overthink _ it. He climbs out of bed, Ghost following after him, trying not to get too in his head about it.

Gods, what is he going to say? He doesn’t have the faintest clue how to talk to children. He barely sees Robb’s kids twice a year for holidays. Maybe that’s who he should have called last night, in all honesty. He wonders what Margaery would do now if he called her up in a panic and quizzed her on the best conversation starters for speaking to children you just found out are yours. 

He prepares Ghost’s breakfast on muscle memory, dumping whatever gourmet meat he’s having today into his bowl. Probably quail or something else equally extravagant, knowing how fucking expensive his raw diet is. His dog is done before Jon’s even poured milk in his cereal, sitting down at the counter so that Ghost can sit at his feet and beg for his leftovers. 

Breakfast doesn’t help clear his thoughts, and he still feels jittery with nervous energy, unable to sit still. “Ghost, you want to run?” he asks, his dog barking like mad at the mere suggestion. Maybe that will help him clear his mind, get his head straightened back out. 

They run almost five miles and it does absolutely  _ nothing,  _ Jon finds, aside from wearing out Ghost. A shower afterwards doesn’t help either. Jon spends twenty minutes picking out what to wear, running a hand agitatedly through his damp curls, mind an absolute warzone, stomach flopping back and forth with nerves. 

_ Gods, I need a fucking drink,  _ he thinks, before he catches himself. 

Finally the clock hits ten thirty, and Jon decides it’s socially acceptable to leave. If he doesn’t do something now, he’s going to wear a hole in the hardwood floors of his living room from pacing back and forth. 

He tries to think of if he’d ever felt this nervous before, gripping the wheel with white knuckles. Not even before their first sold-out stadium concert does he think his stomach twisted itself in knots like this. 

There’s minimal traffic in the valley, thank the gods, so he arrives a few minutes early. He hesitates at the door this time, pausing for a moment before he knocks. 

This time, when he goes inside, everything is going to change. 

It’s not Dany who answers this time, but Missandei. Her golden eyes widen, a little taken aback. 

“Hi, Jon,” she says, taking him in. “You’re early.” Jon flushes, heart racing a mile a minute. It’s probably loud enough that Missandei can hear it. 

“Aye, I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. I thought there’d be more traffic, so I…” 

Yesterday, he probably would have snapped back that Dany had kept his daughter from him for six years, and he would meet her as soon as he damn well pleased. But now— what she had said yesterday was true. No matter how much resentment he might harbor for Dany, he can’t take that out on Ella. And today is just about her. 

Missandei stands there for a moment, eyes scanning over him in a way that makes him feel very transparent. Her arms are folded across her chest, but at last she meets his gaze, like he’s passed some sort of test, and steps aside to let him in. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she finally says. There’s another awkward pause, and then her lips twist into the slightest smile. “And don’t look so nervous. She already loves you, you know. She’s been talking about this all morning.” 

“Has she?” Jon asks, and that just makes his heart beat even  _ faster.  _ Missandei nods, her eyes softening a little bit. 

She’s probably the kindest woman he’s ever met, Jon thinks. Technically she’s Dany’s publicist, but he knows in reality they’re more like sisters. He can only imagine how Arya would treat Dany if she ran into her now. Even if she was the one that left, the kindness her best friend is affording him is much more than he would expect. 

“She’s very excited,” Missandei assures him. Jon huffs humorlessly. 

“I hope I don’t end up bein’ a letdown, then,” he says. Missandei smiles again, almost comforting. 

“You won’t be,” she assures him, before turning away. “Dany, Jon’s here!” 

Dany appears from the end of the hallway, and his heart constricts at the sight of her once again. Dimly, he wonders if seeing her now will ever  _ not  _ be painful. 

“Jon,” she says, and her voice is clipped and cool. Her arms are crossed again, and the way she looks at him lets him know that if he even tries to argue with her right now, she’ll kick him out of the house. 

He can’t help the anger that flares back up at the sight of her. The years he spent frustrated and furious have made his heart hardened, all the time without answers compounding until it became this thing in his chest he didn’t know how to get rid of. And now— knowing what she kept from him all these years, Jon isn’t convinced it will ever go away. 

But he’s going to be civil. Not for Dany, because he still has  _ quite  _ a few more choice words for her, but for Ella. 

“Hi,” he answers, and her gaze is still so guarded, face so void of emotion, it seems hard to believe they were ever anything to each other. 

But then he hears a door slide open somewhere in the back of the house, little feet racing across the hardwood, and his breath catches, stomach doing somersaults again. Gods above, he’s never felt so nervous before, not even when he was a naive fifteen year old stepping onto a stage for the first time in his life. 

“Mumma!” a voice calls, and there’s a blur of blonde hair as his daughter races into the room and right into Dany, Jon’s heart thudding in his chest. 

Her mouth snaps shut when she realizes someone else is here, and she clutches at her mother as she peers at him with wide grey eyes. The world stops again, everything around him fading out of focus as he stands there, dumbfounded, staring at his daughter. 

She’s so small, Jon thinks; even though he knows Dany said she was six now, she seems so tiny, right here before him. Her blonde hair is braided back, tiny hands curled around a stuffed cat she has clutched in her arms. She does look remarkably like her mother, and maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but Jon thinks he can see some of himself in her— the color of her eyes, sure, but the shape of her nose, the way she purses her lips as she studies him. 

Fucking hells. His  _ daughter.  _

“It’s alright, love,” Dany murmurs, and it’s crazy how quickly her demeanor has changed, that cool blank stare gone, only love in her eyes as she looks at their little girl, smoothing a hand over her braid. If he dwelled on it, seeing that expression of utmost adoration grace her face again would probably feel like a punch to the gut, but Jon can’t focus on anything except for the child that’s standing before him. 

“Ella,” Dany says, a hand resting on her back, leaning over to speak in her daughter’s ear. “This is your dad.” 

“Hi,” Jon says, finally unfreezing, and he takes a step forward too. Ella watches him with those eyes  _ identical  _ to his, his heart racing all the while. 

He kneels down on the floor so his head is level with hers, giving her what he hopes is an encouraging smile. Fuck, he  _ really  _ hopes she can’t tell how nervous he is right now. Dimly, he realizes he should probably start trying to mind his language as well. 

“Er, I’m Jon,” he says, not sure what to do. She’s six years old, he doesn’t  _ shake her hand  _ or some bullshit. But also he just met her, and she probably doesn’t want a hug from some stranger, even if he’s her father, right? Gods, he should have tried to prepare better for this. 

“I’m Ella,” she says, stepping closer, still hugging her cat to her chest. Jon smiles again, heart thumping wildly. 

He’s known her for about a minute, but already he loves her more than anything. 

“It’s good to meet you, Ella,” he says, and she smiles too, chin dipping down into her stuffed animal’s head. Jon nods towards the toy, using that as a jumping off point. “And who’s this?” 

She preens at the attention he’s paying to her cat, holding it out so Jon can see. “This is Drogon,” she says proudly, fingers curling in his black fur. “I got him because we had to move and I wanted a real kitty, but Mumma said no because he can’t be in the house.” 

Jon glances up at Dany, who rolls her eyes fondly at their daughter. “It’s not our house, love,” she reminds Ella. “Remember? We’re just borrowing it. We can’t bring a pet into Mr. Barristan’s house while he’s letting us stay here.” 

Well, that explains how she was able to find property here so quickly, Jon supposes. “Y’know, I have a pet,” Jon tells her, and her eyes light up, wide with wonder. 

“You do?” she gasps, and he doesn’t miss the inquisitive look Dany gives him either, though he keeps his eyes on Ella. 

“Aye, I do,” he says, pulling his phone from his pocket, swiping away his notifications to show her his lock screen. “This is my dog Ghost.” 

Ella giggles, leaning over so her nose is almost touching the phone. “He looks fluffy,” she says, grinning. 

Jon chuckles at that. “He’s very fluffy,” he admits, because cleaning Ghost’s fur off of all his belongings is practically a full time job. “He’s from the North, like me. So he has to have extra fur to keep him warm when it’s cold.” 

“I don’t like the cold,” Ella says, sighing dramatically. “Sometimes Mumma had to go to Braavos to film things and it was cold  _ all the time.”  _ Jon smiles again, Dany laughing into her hand. 

“You shouldn’t go up North, then.” Jon tells her. “It’s even colder where I’m from.” 

“I like summer best,” Ella declares. “Then it’s always hot and I get to go swimming in the pool. But we don’t have one here like we used to at my old house.” 

“Well, I have a pool,” Jon says, ignoring Dany’s sharp look. Like hells she’s going to stop him from making his daughter happy. “Might not be like your old one, but you can come swim in it whenever you like.”

“That’s okay,” Ella giggles. “Mum, mum, mum, when can we go swimming?” 

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Dany says, smile tight. “Maybe soon, alright?” 

Ella drops it almost instantaneously. “Do you want to see what I drew today?” she asks instead, and Jon nods immediately. She reaches out and grabs his hand, tugging him after her as she races towards the living room. He almost trips trying to get back on his feet fast enough. 

Hesitantly, he takes a seat next to her on the couch, listening as she babbles about the drawings she did earlier, oohing and ahhing as she rifles through them for him. Jon just sits, enraptured, watching his daughter. His  _ daughter.  _ Bloody hells, it’s an absolutely insane thought, and yet here she is right in front of him, already capturing his entire heart. 

Ella’s initial shyness is completely gone now, and she talks to him about everything and nothing, darting from topic to topic faster than the speed of light. His face hurts from smiling so much, laughing along with her. It’s like in the past hour the whole world has shifted, everything coming into focus now that she’s here. Dany went and turned his whole life upside down with this news, but gods, if the result is that he gets to have  _ Ella  _ in his life now, it’s worth it all. 

He glances over at Dany, and she has her arms crossed against her chest, Missandei next to her, but there’s a little bit of a smile on her face, watching the two of them. 

“Daddy,” Ella says, and Jon looks back to his daughter, heart lurching at the way she says the word. She hugs Drogon to her chest again, peering up at him with those grey eyes he knows so well.

“Why’d you stay away for so long?” she asks, and then his heart shatters.

Fuck, how in the seven hells is he supposed to explain  _ this?  _ He should have known she’d ask, but still, it’s not a question he exactly was prepared for. How do you explain to a six year old you didn’t even know they were alive in the first place, and that’s why you were never around? 

“I’m sorry, Ella,” he says, voice low. “I… I had to stay here, in King’s Landing. And you and your mum had to be in Pentos. Sometimes life is just… complicated.” He exhales, feeling like he’s drowning. “I didn’t want to stay away, I promise,” he tells her, and her eyes brighten a little. “And I won’t anymore. I’ll be here, from now on.” 

“Promise?” she says, voice small, and Jon nods, his heart in his throat. 

“Promise,” he manages to get out. “I love you, you know that?” 

She nods, a little bit of a smile pulling at her lips again. Fucking hells, she looks  _ so  _ much like Dany. “Mumma told me that lots,” she says, and Jon looks back at Dany sharply, eyes wide. But her face is hardened again, an emotionless mask that refuses to meet his gaze. 

“I love you too,” he hears, and Jon’s head whips back just as Ella crawls forward, wrapping her little arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. 

He exhales, peace settling over him as he holds his daughter in his arms. She rests her chin on his shoulder, her curly hair tickling his cheek, and  _ gods,  _ she’s already so important to him he can hardly breathe. 

He has to be there for her, he knows. He wants to be everything he hasn’t been in these past six years. This incredible little girl deserves that and more. 

Now he just has to figure out how to do that. 

Jon leaves a little later, Ella letting out a hilariously loud groan when Missandei reminds her it’s time to do her schoolwork. Dany walks with him to the door, her expression odd, unreadable to him for once in his life. 

“She’s incredible,” Jon says, eyes meeting Dany’s. She smiles a bit, almost sad. 

“She is, isn’t she,” Dany murmurs. Her amethyst eyes are like a puzzle he can’t quite figure out, a book written in a language he’s only learned bits of. So familiar, and yet a complete mystery. 

“I’m glad she got to meet you,” she continues, looking back towards the staircase their daughter disappeared up. “I… she’s wanted to, for so long. It’s all she’s talked about since we moved here. I hope you know—” 

“Stop it,” Jon says, squeezing his eyes shut. “Stop… talkin’ like her not knowing me is  _ anyone’s  _ fault but yours.” He can feel the anger in his chest again, twisting around his heart, thorny tendrils squeezing it until it burns white hot. Dany’s eyes harden when he meets them again, her arms crossing defensively once more. Like a dragon about to breathe fire. 

“Jon,” she starts, “you know it wasn’t that simple—” 

“No, I don’t!” he snaps, turning on her. “It  _ should  _ have been simple. You should have told me I had a fucking daughter, and then I would have been there for her. She wouldn’t have had to  _ imagine  _ what I was like all these years, or dreamed about gettin’ to meet me, because she would have already known me.” 

“And what about the band?” she demands. “You really think I believe that you would have dropped everything, given up your world tours and your fame, let your brothers down, just to raise a kid with a woman you hated?” 

Jon’s eyes squeeze closed, everything she just said making his mind reel. Did Sansa not tell her he was the reason they fell apart anyways? That her being gone from his life had sent him spiraling so badly that he’d destroyed everything he loved regardless?

Does she even know that her leaving is the reason his life almost ended in the first place? 

“Well, I guess we’ll never find out,” he settles on, because he’s too angry to get into  _ that  _ right now. “Seeing as you kept me in the dark.” 

She exhales again, opening her mouth to continue, but his heart hurts, and he needs this to be over. Yelling at Dany, taking out his anger on her— that’s a dangerous path. If he lets his emotions spiral out of control again, he’s scared of the person he’ll become.

All he knows is that person is  _ not  _ the type of father Ella deserves. 

“No,” Jon says, effectively cutting her off, his heart twisting in a strange mix of anger and acceptance. “Enough. I’m goin’ to be there for Ella. I want to be a part of her life. I meant what I told her, I’m not goin’ anywhere.” She looks up at him, as if this is somehow surprising news. “And for her sake, from now on, I’ll be civil. But…” he exhales, jamming his thumbs in his pockets. “I don’t think I can ever forgive you for keepin’ her from me.” 

To his surprise, Dany looks down, defeated. “You shouldn’t,” she says, almost a whisper. “I… I won’t blame you for that.” 

His brow furrows, shaking his head in confusion. But Dany looks up, and her eyes are fiery once again, shiny with unshed tears. 

“I made a lot of mistakes,” she admits. “And you did too.” His mouth falls open to argue, but Dany holds up a hand. “But I hope you know that for this one, at least, I’m sorry.” She shrugs, biting at her lip. “I don’t know if that means anything to you anymore, but I am.” 

Jon stands there, just staring at her, even more bloody confused than he’d been to start. “I’ll text you, alright?” Dany says, breaking the silence, and he nods dumbly, filing away her apology to unpack and deal with later. “Ella’s not going to let me rest until I let her swim in your pool now.” 

“Okay,” he says, not sure what else to do. “I… don’t have much goin’ on. Let me know, whenever I can see her again.” 

“I will,” Dany tells him, and he nods, turning and leaving before Dany can say anything else that just makes his heart twist in more knots. 

His mind is a tangled mess the entire drive back to his house, unable to straighten out a single thing Dany had said with what he remembers of the past. This— none of it makes any godsdamn sense. He drops his head to the steering wheel, groaning as the tangles just grow more knotted. 

And below it all— he can still feel that anger, lurking in the background. Like a wolf waiting to strike, claw at his heart and make him bleed out.

He sits up straight, staring out the windshield. That, he knows, he can’t let happen. For the sake of his daughter. 

All this fucking  _ shit  _ with Dany and their messy past is inconsequential. He has to learn to put it behind him, tamp down his anger so it doesn’t rule his decisions. 

The only thing that matters is Ella. 

There’s a kind of peace to that, he thinks, and the knots in his mind untangle. Just for a moment. 

***

“Another round!” Jon barely hears Robb call from over his shoulder, turning as his cousin appears behind him with three more drinks, slamming them down on the table. Jon’s lost count of how many they’ve had by now, grinning widely as he and Theon take their glasses, all three of them taking gulping sips. 

Jon can’t tell if the music in this bar is progressively getting louder, or if he’s just sloshed enough for it to seem like the bass is making the walls vibrate. The lights are brighter now too, flashing brilliantly across the dark dance floor, so it’s probably the latter. 

“I can’t believe we fuckin’ did it,” Theon says, grin wider than he’s ever seen. Jon laughs again, because that’s what he’s been thinking all day, since they walked into Davos’ office this morning. It seems like some sort of ridiculous dream, something too good to possibly be real. 

But here they are. In a bar celebrating, because this morning they  _ got fucking signed.  _

Robb laughs, slapping Theon on the shoulder. “It only gets better from here on, mate. We’re in the bloody big leagues now!” 

The song changes, people pushing past them at their hightop, fighting to get back to the bar. It’s funny— Jon’s played at dozens of bars and clubs the past two years, as they made their way from Winterfell to King’s Landing, working their arses off to get noticed, but this is one of the few times he’s been at one just to  _ drink.  _ He’s not even supposed to be in here, really, as he’s just shy of being legal, but Theon and Robb had picked a place that didn’t ID, and Robb’s been buying all his drinks. 

_ “Three fuckin’ albums,”  _ Robb says, shaking his head, clearly still not quite willing to believe it. Jon’s right there with him— it’s what they’ve been dreaming of for so long, it’s baffling that it’s finally within their grasp. 

“I know,” Theon echoes. “We better get writing, aye?” 

“Mm, not tonight,” Jon says, taking another long sip of his drink. “We’ve worked too fuckin’ hard. We get one night off. We can start writing tomorrow.”

Robb laughs into his drink. “Somethin’ tells me the headache you’ll have tomorrow won’t be great for writin’ anything.” 

“Fine,” Jon concedes, laughing. The lights around them flash again, the room swaying a bit. “Day after.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Theon mumbles. “I’m going to need at least a week.” 

Robb cackles. “Well, you better pull yourself together, because that group of girls over there is eyein’ you.” 

Theon’s head turns so fast Jon’s surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. “Where?!” he demands, Jon laughing, eyes squeezing shut. Somehow that just makes him feel  _ more  _ off balance. Shit, maybe he should drink some water or something. 

“Don’t get too excited, Theon,” Jon says, peering at the two of them again. “I think they just caught sight of Robb instead.” 

Robb grins like a cat who got the canary, running a hand through his artfully messed curls. “Fuck you, Robb, you  _ always  _ do this,” Theon laments. Robb shrugs, nonplussed. 

“I can’t help it that I’m the pretty boy of the band,” he says, smile stretching wider. Jon rolls his eyes, just like he’d done when the label representative had said that this morning. “C’mon, mate, let’s go see if they have a friend who might settle for you.” 

Theon finishes off his drink, putting the glass down on the table. “You’re such an arse, you know that?” he says, elbowing Robb, before his eyes turn to Jon. “You coming, or you staying?” 

Jon surveys the group of girls giggling as they eye Robb, and makes a face. “I’ll stay,” he says. Crowds have never particularly been his thing, which Theon and Robb enjoy teasing him about, as a hopefully-future famous singer. Plus, he’s bloody awkward when it comes to talking to girls.

“Suit yourself,” Robb says, slapping Jon’s shoulder before he and Theon turn and walk towards the gaggle of girls, leaving him alone. 

The music pumping through the building seems to get louder still. Dimly, he debates going to get a water, but the bar is crowded beyond belief, and the thought of fighting through all those people makes his head spin even more. 

He doesn’t mind being alone, though, sitting back and watching all the people out on the dance floor, celebrating their own victories. That makes him smile again, an uncontrollable grin tugging at his lips. 

Years and years of hard work finally paid off. They went and chased this crazy dream across the country, put everything on the line for it, and now, they’ve finally made it reality.

Jon picks up his drink, going to take another sip, but before he can, something crashes into his back, pinning him against the high top, alcohol sloshing out of the glass and onto the table. 

“Oh,  _ shit,  _ I’m so sorry!” Jon hears, and he turns, eyes going wide as he comes face to face with a girl. 

The room swims around him again, but this time Jon doesn’t think it’s the alcohol. He blinks, mind trying to process what’s going on, the entire world shifting as he takes in the girl before him. 

She’s gorgeous. Absolutely fucking  _ gorgeous,  _ unlike anyone he’s ever seen in his life. Her hair is like moonlight, long wavy curls cascading down her back, eyes wide as she teeters in her high heels. Instinctively, Jon reaches out to steady her, a jolt of electricity shooting through him as he grips her arm. Her head tilts up, eyes meeting his, and his breath leaves him in one big whoosh. 

Eyes like amethysts peer up at him through beautiful dark lashes, perfect lips separated in shock. A dim part of his brain recognizes he should probably say something, but he’s still too taken aback to form any thought whatsoever, let alone relay it to his mouth. 

“Are you okay?” he finally gets out, and the girl blinks at him, shaking her head a little bit. 

“Yes, thank you,” she finally says. Her voice is melodic, hypnotizing. Or maybe he’s just too drunk. Fuck, he can’t even think straight right now, with her right in front of him. 

“Some asshole going by shoved me trying to get back to the bar,” she says, and Jon nods. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you.” 

Jon shakes his head, his mostly spilled drink already forgotten. It was Robb’s money anyways. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, trying to be discreet as his eyes roam over the rest of her.  _ Fuck,  _ she really is gorgeous. He meets her eyes again, and the little grin pulling at her lips lets him know he was wildly unsuccessful in his attempts to be subtle. 

Gods, her eyes really do look purple. He can’t tell if it’s from the lights of the bar, or his drunken imagination, or just  _ her.  _

“I’m Dany,” she finally says, head tilting to the side, taking a step closer to him. 

“Jon,” he says with a smile.  _ Dany.  _ It suits her, he thinks. He wonders if it’s short for something. “Er, do you want to…?” 

She nods, putting her drink on the high top, leaning against it so she’s facing Jon. Someone pushes past them, and she moves closer, the smell of her perfume intoxicating. 

Generally he’s not one for making small talk with strangers, but something about this girl is different, he can tell. Fucking hells, she’s like a magnet to him, pulling him closer and closer. 

“So, Jon,” Dany says, lashes fluttering as her eyes find his again, “what brings you out tonight?” 

Jon grins, dimly realizing he must look ridiculous right now. “My band just got signed by a record label.” 

Her eyes widen, a brilliant smile overtaking her face. Jon’s heart races in his chest at the sight, because it’s maybe the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “That’s brilliant!” she says, leaning closer again. “Congratulations!” 

“Thanks,” Jon says, cheeks flushing a little at her praise. This is Hollywood, after all— everyone in this whole bloody part of the city is hoping to make some dream come true. Them getting signed probably isn’t that uncommon an event in these parts. And yet Dany still looks like it’s the best news she’s ever heard. 

“Where are your bandmates?” she asks. “Did they abandon you?” 

Jon rolls his eyes, laughing a bit. “Aye. They’re over there somewhere, I dunno.” He waves a hand noncommittally in the direction Theon and Robb went. That’s about the last thing he cares about at this moment.“What about you? What are you celebrating?” 

Dany makes a face, and immediately he’s sorry that he asked. “Not celebrating, per se,” she admits, raising her voice so he can hear her over the thumping music. “My friend dragged me out. Said it would help cheer me up from another audition done, and another part I didn’t get.” 

“You’re an actress,” Jon realizes, and she nods. 

“Theoretically, anyways,” Dany tells him. “I don’t know if a few background parts here and there really make me an actress.” 

“Of course they do,” Jon says, and she narrows her eyes at him skeptically, but there’s still a smile on her face. “We’ve been a band for three years now, but I don’t only  _ now  _ consider myself a musician, even if we just got signed.” 

She hums, studying him, and his heart ricochets against his ribcage as her eyes bore into his, like he can see straight to his soul. 

“Alright,” she concedes. “Fair point, I suppose.” Dany arches an eyebrow at him, taking a sip of her drink. “So this band of yours. What are you called? Anything I’ve heard of?” 

“Probably not, unless you’ve been hanging around bars in Winterfell,” Jon jokes. She grins, looking at him victoriously. 

“I  _ thought  _ you sounded Northern.” 

“Aye, we just moved here a year ago,” he tells her. “Figured we stood a better chance of makin’ it down south.” 

“Same for me,” she says. “I’m from Dragonstone originally. A bit closer than Winterfell, I suppose, but I still had to move to have a better shot.” She shakes her head, intoxicating purple eyes meeting his again. That must be a trick of the light, he thinks; they’re too beautiful to be real. But then again, here _ she _ is, standing right before him. “Anyways. Your band?” 

“Aye,” Jon says, sipping his drink. “We’re called The Almost Brothers.” 

Dany smiles, but he can see she’s trying not to laugh, so he chuckles. “I know. We always said we’d change it, and then it sort of… stuck.” 

“How are you  _ almost  _ brothers?” she asks, a grin tugging at her lips. He shrugs. 

“Well, Robb’s my cousin, but I grew up in the same house as him, so he’s always been more like a brother to me. My mum had me pretty young, so she moved back in with her older brother and his wife so they could help her out.” Dany nods, so he continues. “And then Theon’s a family friend, but he’s lived with us since I was ten or so. His father was an abusive asshole. He spent more time over with Robb and I than he ever did at home, so my uncle got custody when his dad died.” 

“I see,” Dany says, nodding. “Almost brothers. Alright.”

“It’s a stupid fuckin’ name,” Jon admits, and then Dany starts laughing. The sound is infectious, and he begins to chuckle as well. “But it’s grown on us.” 

“I like it,” Dany says with a shrug. “Different and unexpected. Sort of like you.” 

Jon grins, taking a step closer to her. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not,” he admits. Dany grins, lashes fluttering as her eyes meet his. 

“Well, I came out tonight with the intention of forgetting I’m miserable by getting shitfaced, and instead I met you, and now I don’t think I have to do that to feel better.” 

That makes him smile like an absolute idiot, head ducking towards her. 

“You want to go get another drink?” Dany asks, nodding towards his now-empty glass, and Jon grimaces, glancing down at the table. 

“I, ah, can’t, actually,” he says, abashed. “I’m, uh… only seventeen. Robb’s been buyin’ my drinks for me all night.” 

_ Shit,  _ he probably shouldn’t have told her that. The chances of her still paying attention to someone in a bar who just confessed they’re  _ too young to drink  _ are slim to none, considering she clearly  _ is.  _ He’s still not really sure why she’s talking to him in the first place, given how fucking  _ stunning  _ she is. 

Dany grins even wider at that, and he blinks in confusion as she giggles. “I’m seventeen too,” she admits, and he sighs in relief, a grin pulling at his lips once again. “I’ve got a fake, though. I’ll be right back.” 

She brushes up against him as she passes him to get to the bar, and Jon can feel the tingling shock run all the way from his head to his toes.

The few minutes it takes Dany to come back are the longest of the night, but finally she returns, clutching two drinks in her hands, somehow looking even more gorgeous. And then she smiles at him again, passing him a glass, and his heart thumps even faster.

She’s so easy to talk to it’s mind blowing, conversation just flowing without Jon having to put any thought into it. Robb always teases him for being sullen and quiet when they’re out meeting new people, but Dany— she just makes him want to talk forever, if it means she’ll stay with him at this little table in the back of the bar. He didn’t think he could want her any more than he already does, until she’d started speaking, and he’d realized she’s not just beautiful— she’s smart, and witty, and charming. 

They’ve gone through every topic under the sun without ever faltering, somehow stumbling upon television shows, and Jon’s surprised to see she has somewhat similar taste to him. “Oh, gods, that’s one of my favorite shows of all time,” Dany sighs, their drinks long gone by now, but Jon’s head is still buzzing. “The ending gutted me.  _ So  _ well done.” 

“Aye, it was,” Jon says. “That last part had me blubberin’ like a baby. Ellaria Sand is a fuckin’ gifted actress.” 

“She really is,” Dany agrees. A wistful smile tugs at her lips, and Jon’s heart feels like it might burst. Is it possible to fall in love with someone after just one night? 

“That’s the sort of thing I want to do,” she tells him, leaning in closer, almost like it’s a secret. Her eyes are so close to his, Jon can count the flecks of silver in the purple. “I want to play characters like that. Give myself to a role that sticks with people years after the show or movie is done.” 

Jon’s eyes drift closed for a moment, drunk on her. “You will,” he says, and he’s never seen a single thing she’s been in before, but still he knows it in his soul.

“How can you know that?” Dany says, quirking an eyebrow at him. “You don’t even know if I can act or not.” 

“I know you can,” he says with a shrug. “And I know you will. I dunno how, I just do.” 

She smirks at him, but there’s such a naked longing in her eyes, like she wants his words to be true more than anything. “Or you’re just saying that to flatter me.” 

“I mean, I am trying to flatter you,” he admits, grinning stupidly. “But that doesn’t make it any less true—” 

He has to stop talking, then, because Dany moves closer to him, her hands pressing against his chest as she tilts her head up and kisses him. 

It’s like fireworks, the feeling of her lips against his, like every stupid love song he’s been singing for the past three years. She tastes like liquor, her mouth warm and soft and  _ gods,  _ he thinks he might really be in love with her. 

Jon is winded when they pull apart, heart racing so fast he thinks it might just give up and stop at some point. His hands have fallen to her waist, the slinky fabric of her dress doing little to block the warmth of her skin. Dany’s forehead presses against his, still risen on her tiptoes even with her heels, and he leans down to kiss her again, quicker this time, just to hide the stupid fucking grin stretching across his face. 

“Mm,” Dany hums, nose nudging his. “Even better than I imagined.” 

Jon laughs, stomach flopping. “How long have you been thinkin’ about kissing me?” 

She shrugs, lashes fluttering as she glances up at him. “As soon as I heard the northern accent, really.” 

Jon laughs, squeezing her waist, bringing her in closer. “You’re pretty fuckin’ incredible, you know that?” he asks, and her eyes soften, a little smile pulling at her lips. 

“Are you just saying that because you’re drunk?” she teases. 

“I mean, I am drunk, but no,” he tells her, and her smile grows wider. “I’m tellin’ you because it’s the truth.” 

Dany’s smile is brilliant, her hands coming up to tangle in his curls, and then he’s kissing her again. The noise of the bar fades away, nothing mattering but the warmth of her wrapped up in his arms, the incredible way her mouth feels as it moves against his. He kisses her greedily, a shudder running through him at the little moan of pleasure she makes when his tongue slides against hers. One of his hands tangles in her white-blonde curls, and her hair is softer than he imagined it could be. Gods, he never wants to let her go. 

“You wanna dance?” she murmurs against his lips when they come up for air, and Jon nods, one of his hands sliding down dangerously close to her arse. Her fingers rake down his chest in retaliation, catching on the waistband of his jeans, and his mind is foggy, the warmth of her skin through his t-shirt intoxicating. 

She kisses him again, quick and chaste, before she grabs his hand and pulls him out towards the dance floor, those gorgeous eyes flashing brightly in the club’s lights. 

Jon’s never been one for dancing, but just based on the past hour, he knows he’ll follow wherever she leads. 

***

When Jon wakes up he can still see the way the light had made Dany’s eyes shine that night in the bar. 

He hasn’t had dreams like that in a while. He used to get them constantly, right after she left. Vivid memories, nightmares of things that they should have had but never did. He’d wake up feeling her beside him, and then would want to vomit when he remembered she was gone. 

The alcohol had made the dreams stop, but that had come with a price of its own. 

Sighing, he sits up, patting Ghost’s flank and reaching for his phone on the nightstand. His eyes squeeze closed again when he remembers he never answered any of Theon or Robb’s text messages yesterday. 

He still has no fucking clue what to do about the band. The easiest thing would be to tell them he’s out— that everything is different now that he knows the truth. Ella needs him, and he wants to be there for her through it all. He doesn’t need a band to consume all his free time now that he has a six year old daughter to do that. 

But another part of him wonders— if he lets the band fall apart again because of his own issues, will Robb ever speak to him again? 

A year or so ago that probably wouldn’t have mattered as much to him. But thinking of how Theon and Robb had looked at him two days ago when he’d played them that song, a longing settles into his heart. He wants that back. That unwavering, unquestionable support of the two people he used to love more than anything. His  _ brothers.  _

Gods, it hits him then how much he’s really missed them. 

Jon throws back the covers, sitting up in bed, mind made up. 

He dials the number as he walks towards the kitchen, Ghost bouncing at his heels. Theon picks up after only a couple rings, sounding half asleep still. 

“Jon?” Theon asks, and he thinks he hears Sansa’s voice faintly in the background as well. “You alright?” 

“Aye, I’m fine,” he says. “What are you doin’ today?” 

Theon pauses. “Er, Sansa and I were going over Robb and Margaery’s this afternoon,” he admits. “Why?” 

“That’s perfect, actually,” Jon says. “D’you think Robb would mind if I came too?” 

Theon snorts. “I think it depends what you’re going to say to him.” 

“I have to talk to you both,” Jon admits. “About… everything. Now that I know the truth.” 

“Okay,” Theon says hesitantly. “I just…” he sighs, and when he speaks again, his voice sounds cautious, vulnerable. It’s a side he hasn’t been allowed to see of Theon in years and years. 

“I understand if things have to change, now that you have a bloody kid. But just… don’t go pulling the rug out from under us, alright?” 

“I won’t,” Jon says, and he means it, the words burning like a vow as they leave his mouth. 

Theon gives him the time, and Jon eats breakfast, taking Ghost for a walk afterwards. Noontime rolls around quickly, and he gets in his car and drives to his cousin’s. 

Robb and Margaery’s house is in the really rich part of King’s Landing, twelve foot hedges surrounding the entire property. The gates open for him when he buzzes in, their enormous house looming in front of him. He can hear squeals of laughter from the backside even in the front drive, splashes from the pool that he assumes must be his niece and nephew.

The house is empty, so he walks through to the back door, sliding glass panes revealing the spacious patio and the gorgeous pool. Gods, he can’t remember the last time he was here. Probably for Christmas a couple years back. Sure enough, he can see Rose take a running leap into the pool, Sansa and Margaery chatting while they watch the kids, Theon grabbing a beer from the cooler. 

Everyone turns to look at him when he pulls the door open, watching as he steps out on the patio. “Jon,” Robb says, standing up from where he’d been crouched on the patio, helping Ben with his water wings. “Theon said you were coming.” His brow furrows, watching him. “Is everything alright? We haven’t heard from you in days.” 

There’s a tiny bit of bitterness in his voice, and Jon winces. Yes, he probably should have called Robb and Theon a bit sooner. 

“I know,” he says, crossing the patio. “I’m sorry. It was just… a lot to process.” 

“I can imagine,” Sansa says, nodding towards the empty chair to her side. Jon takes it, Robb and Theon sitting down as well. “So what happened? Theon said you went over there, but nothing else.” 

He looks at Sansa sharply, puzzled. “You didn’t hear from Dany?” 

She shakes her head, looking down at her lap. “I haven’t spoken to her since I found out.” 

An odd pang goes through Jon’s heart at his cousin’s words, partially grateful that she’d taken his side in this, at least. “Well, I met her yesterday. My daughter.” He blinks, exhaling sharply. “Gods, that still feels bloody weird to say.” 

“I can imagine,” Margaery says with a smirk. “What’s she like?” 

“Incredible,” Jon says, a stupid smile taking over his face again. “Amazing, really. She’s perfect. The most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.” He shakes his head, chuckling. “Now I just have to figure out how in the seven hells to be a father.” 

Robb laughs. “Trust me, you’re never prepared for it,” he says. “Still not sure what I’m doin’ half the time with these two.” 

“I just try to make sure they don’t burn the house down and still have all their limbs attached at the end of the day,” Margaery says, eyes following her kids as they run around the pool again. “If you can manage that, I’d say you’re succeeding.” 

“Solid parenting advice,” Theon says with a laugh. “I’ll have to remember that.” 

That reminds Jon. “Congratulations, by the way,” he says, turning back to Sansa and Theon. He’d texted his cousin when he’d heard the news, but he hasn’t seen her in person since Theon proposed. She beams, eyes flitting down to the diamond ring now resting on her finger, then back to her fiancé. 

It makes his heart ache, seeing how they look at each other. It’s the same with Robb and Margaery— it’s why prior to all this, he’d spent as little time with his family as he could. 

Seeing his brothers with the love of their lives, happy and  _ together,  _ just reminds him of everything he and Dany were supposed to have. 

The conversation around him continues on, but Jon’s dragged back into memories, times when the two of them were happy. When she was his whole world, and he thought they’d have a whole life together. 

Now all he has is anger and bitterness. He’s never going to be able to forgive her for keeping Ella from him, but he’s never going to be truly able to forget about her when he has to keep seeing her in order to see his daughter. 

Which reminds him of why he came over here in the first place. 

Margaery gets up a bit later to retrieve Ben, who’d fallen trying to chase his sister and scraped his knee on the patio. “It’s alright, sweet,” she says, wiping away the two year old’s tears. “C’mon, let’s go inside, and I’ll patch you up.” 

“D’you need help?” Robb says, already standing, a comforting hand running over his son’s back. Margaery smiles sweetly at her husband, shaking her head. 

“No, don’t worry about it,” she says, shooting her sister-in-law a conspiratory glance. “Sansa, could you come with me?” 

Sansa catches on immediately, springing to her feet. “Of course,” she says. Robb drops a kiss on Ben’s little head, smoothing back his damp curls. 

“Mum’s got you, alright bud?” he murmurs. “You’ll be alright.” 

Something hot and angry flares in his chest, jealousy burning at his insides. Watching Robb and his children— gods, that’s what Jon  _ should  _ have had with Ella. He deserved to get to see her grow up, to watch her become the person she is now. To bandage her scraped knees and comfort her when she was scared. The first six years of his life, he should have been there for. 

He exhales, looking down at his lap again. It’s so easy to get lost in the what ifs, what should have happened. But there’s no changing the past now— that he knows. All he can do is move forward, and try to make it up to Ella now. 

That’s all he wants. He may have missed the first six years, but he wants to be there for her in every moment from now on. 

And he knows that’s going to be an impossible task if he can’t control his anger towards her mother. 

“Keep an eye on Rose, alright?” Margaery says, and Robb nods, kissing her quickly before she and Sansa turn and retreat back into the house. 

The three of them sit there in heavy silence for a moment, Robb’s eyes trained on his daughter, refusing to look at Jon. His heart grows heavy again, but for a different reason this time. There’s a hardened edge to his cousin’s gaze. 

He’s just waiting for Jon to let him down once again. 

“Alright,” Theon finally says, leaning forward, elbows braced on his knees. “I can’t take this fucking tension anymore. Jon, out with it.” 

Jon exhales, glancing between the two of them once again, Robb still steadfastly staring forward. 

“I still want to do this,” he says, and that’s what finally gets his cousin’s attention. 

“You do?” Robb asks, brow furrowed in confusion. 

Jon nods. “Aye, I do. If, uh… if you two still want to, that is.” 

“Of course,” Theon says, and Jon hadn’t noticed the anxiety in his eyes as well until it’s no longer there. “But what about Ella?” 

Jon sighs. “I want to be there for her,” he admits. “I want to be a good father. Make up for all the years I didn’t get to be there.” He pauses, studying his bandmates. His  _ brothers.  _ “But I can’t do this alone. I need… I need an outlet. Somethin’ else to be a part of. I’m goin’ to have to keep seeing Dany, and if I let all my anger towards her build… nothin’ good will happen.” 

“No, it won’t,” Robb agrees. He looks over at Jon, eyes hard. “But if this is going to just be a distraction from her… I dunno if that’s a good idea either.” He pauses. “It’s one thing if you’re trying to forget her, mate. But having to  _ see  _ her all the time… all that’s going to do is make that anger build up.”

He can sense the unspoken words there. Because last time he’d tried to use the band to distract himself from the anger and resentment in his heart that Dany had left in her wake, it had imploded on itself, dragging them all down. 

But it’s different this time, he knows. He’s determined to make it so.

“I don’t need a distraction,” Jon insists. “I need a support system. I need  _ you two.”  _

Robb and Theon both go silent at that, taken aback. His heart races in his chest, the vulnerability of what he’d just admitted making him second guess himself. It’s not like he’s been particularly close with either Theon or Robb since the breakup. Admitting something like that to them now is like baring his soul, laying all the cards on the table. 

But that’s what he needs to do, Jon realizes. If he wants his brothers back, he has to be honest. He has to try to correct some of his past mistakes.

The biggest one of those was forgetting how much these two men mean to him. 

“I don’t have a fuckin’ clue what I’m doing when it comes to being a father,” Jon says, forging ahead. “But I know I have to get my life together again if I want to be a part of Ella’s. I don’t have any idea what is happening with Dany.” He exhales, heart still racing. “But I won’t let whatever it is destroy this again. I can’t. This is too important.” Jon glances at Theon and Robb, trying to figure out what they’re thinking. He hates exposing himself like this, after leaving all this buried so deep for so long. But it’s what his brothers deserve to hear, and it’s what he needs to tell them if he wants a chance of this happening again. 

“All I know is I want this,” he confesses. “This band.  _ Us.  _ More than anything.” 

“Me too,” Theon says, giving Robb a pointed look. “I’m all in. I want this again.” His eyebrows arch, the unspoken question posed at the last of them obvious. 

Robb hesitates a moment, but then a little smile tugs at his lips as well, and Jon exhales a sigh of relief. “Alright,” he agrees. “I’m in too.”

Silence settles over them again, but this time it’s not awkward. It’s peaceful. Settling. 

It makes him feel like he’s back where he belongs. 

Jon exhales a moment later, breaking the peaceful quiet. “I wrote another song.” 

Theon and Robb turn to look at him, incredulous. Jon almost wants to laugh at the dumbfounded expression on both of their faces. 

“When did you do that?” Robb asks. 

“Yesterday, after I got home from Dany’s.”

“You do know we’re supposed to be doin’ this  _ together,  _ right Jon?” Theon asks, that teasing, smirky grin firmly in place. He realizes then how long it’s been since he’s seen it on his face. Like a dream from another lifetime. His heart lightens, seeing it again. 

“I dunno, it might be garbage,” Jon says, shrugging. Behind them, the slider door opens, the sound of Margaery and Sansa’s voices drawing closer. “It was just stuck in my head, so I wrote it down.” 

“Seriously, mate, what happened to _ us  _ being a band?” Robb says with an amiable roll of his eyes. Rose races past them in a blur, making a beeline for the diving board as Margaery calls something inaudible after her, but Robb ignores her, twinkling blue eyes still fixed on Jon. “You can’t just write the whole bloody album without us!” 

“Well maybe you two should get off your arses and write some fuckin’ songs,” Jon teases. Both Theon and Robb blink at him, and Jon’s heart thuds in his chest, wondering if he’s gone too far. Pushed too much, taken too many liberties too soon. 

But then Robb cackles, tipping his head back, Theon guffawing as well, and Jon relaxes, letting himself laugh along with his brothers. 

This. This is what he needs. This is what he missed, during all those lonely years. 

Robb looks over at him with a genuine smile on his face, eyes shining like they used to, and hope takes root in Jon’s chest, delicate and new.

Maybe he’ll be alright after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, EDITED TO ADD. I wanted to leave comment moderation off but apparently y'all are incapable of playing fucking nice. 
> 
> First, off the bat: If you are a normal person leaving a normal comment, please leave it. I promise I'll approve it. I always hesitate to turn moderation on because I feel like it discourages the nice people from commenting, even though its purpose is just to stop the trolls. So please, don't worry. I still want to hear from you. 
> 
> Second: Let's all use our noggins here and recognize that we are TWO CHAPTERS into this story. I have not yet revealed everyone's full reasoning and motivations. Yes, there are a lot of questionable decisions that have been made. Yes, we are dealing with a shit ton of morally grey characters here. It would not make sense to reveal literally everyone's motivations in chapter 2. Have a little faith; everything is not what it seems. 
> 
> I understand being angry at the characters. They are certainly a mess, and that's by design. They've got a lot of shit to work through here, and you can bet I'm going to make them earn their happy ending. If you want to vent your frustration towards character's decisions, go for it. I know the angst is going to be frustrating at times. I promise I won't delete your comment for that. 
> 
> However. What I WILL NOT stand for: bashing characters and attacking me over my narrative decisions, responding to other people and attacking them for comments THEY have left (seriously, y'all, everyone is entitled to their opinions, let's take a chill pill), being unecessarily rude or mean, leaving troll comments that have nothing to do with this story, calling me names or accusing me of being unfair to certain characters (I PROMISE I do not have enough free time to write revenge fic, ffs), etc. 
> 
> Again I am sorry to have to do this, lol, but I am already tired enough without having to police a select few people acting like five year olds. Let's keep it civil, please and thanks.
> 
> Chapter title is from [Strangers.](https://youtu.be/b469ev95eog)


	3. but all you ever do is look away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So,” Davos says, turning back to look at all of them. “What brings you back here?” 
> 
> “Well,” Robb says, running a hand through his russet curls. “We’re, ah… we want to get back together.” 
> 
> Davos’s eyebrows raise. “As a group?” he clarifies. “As the Almost Brothers?” 
> 
> Theon nods now. “Aye. We figured you’d be the best person to make that happen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again friends! I just barely made it BUT I'm keeping with my one update a month plan! My job has been literal hell AND I'm working on approximately 2394802 Halloween things so I'm pretty impressed with myself for getting this done! 
> 
> Before we get going, though, I think we all need to have a bit of a talk. I understand that characters in this story have made some pretty shitty choices. I did that on purpose. But I've gotten a lot of comments and asks and whatnot saying Dany is unforgiveable and nothing could ever justify her hiding a kid from Jon, and I just want to discuss that for a minute. 
> 
> Yes, clearly Dany made a REALLY poor decision here. Obviously nothing could really justify her in hiding Ella from Jon aside from like, domestic abuse, which didn't happen. But that's not what this story is about-- it's about two people who have hurt each other, who have made a lot of mistakes (you know, as all humans do) and if they can reconcile and work out all the issues between them. When Dany's full motives are revealed (which they haven't been yet, as we're, like, 1/8 of the way into the story) you're not going to go "Oh, well, I guess it's fine she hid their kid from him!" That's not the point. If you're waiting for Dany's actions to be justified, you should probably stop reading now, because I think you're just going to be disappointed. 
> 
> That's not to say you can't be MAD at her, because I think it's very understandable to be angry with her right now. She's definitely got a lot to make up for, moreso than Jon does. Also remember that Jon's viewpoint is is certainly limited, and he's often biased because of his own emotions and memories regarding what happened. I'm not going to let Dany off the hook easily, or Jon for that matter. They're both going to have to work to earn that happy ending (which they will be getting, as tagged.)
> 
> All this to say: please don't leave me comments being like "Dany should never be forgiven!! Dany is the worst!!" because I'm just going to delete them. If you want to discuss her mistakes and how far she's got to go to get to a place where she can earn Jon's forgiveness, totally fine. If you want to complain about how much she's fucked up, because she has, okay with me. But listening to people say nothing but she's never going to be worthy of Jon and bashing her is exhausting. Also, if we could refrain from responding to OTHER people's comments and jumping down their throats for having different opinions than you, that would also be great. 
> 
> I'm turning comment moderation off because I hate how it doesn't show me if things are in threads until I approve them, but just putting it out there: if you troll me, if you harass me, if you have a HISTORY of harassing me, if you are unnecessarily mean to me, etc, I am just going to delete your comment. (Though I'll probably screenshot it and send it to my friends first so we can laugh about what a whiny bitch you're being together.) If you troll or harass any other commenters, same. I'm doing this for free and absolutely nothing is forcing you to be here, so if you don't like this story and the direction I'm taking it, please just leave. I know this isn't for everyone and that's totally fine. No hard feelings at all if you don't want to continue reading. But if you are going to be rude to me instead of doing the courteous thing and just leaving, know I am going to be rude right back. 
> 
> ALRIGHT end rant. I hope you enjoy the chapter! Huge shoutouts to my fantastic betas for doing a wonderful job cleaning this up, and to Alice for that FANTASTIC moodboard. I know this chapter is a lot more band content, but I tried to get plenty of Ella/ pool fluff in there too to balance it out 😁 Let me know what you think, and as always you can find me on tumblr/ twitter @stilesssolo!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50524552173/in/dateposted-public/)

Walking into Davos’s office feels like something out of a dream. 

The déjà vu is so strong as the three of them sit in the lobby, waiting for his assistant to come let them in, that Jon has to keep reminding himself it’s real and not a memory of the past he’s trapped in again. _This_ is real. They’re a band again, and they’re going to make music once more. Theon is tapping his foot, Robb’s fingers drumming against his thigh— this is just as weird for them, he can tell. 

But it’s weird in a _good_ way, Jon thinks. Which is a change, for once in his bloody life. 

Davos’s assistant appears in the doorway then— Shireen, Jon thinks her name is. He’s never met her before today; she looks like she was probably the right age to be one of their fans the first time they went through all this. 

“He’s ready for you now,” she says, smiling at the three of them, nodding for them to follow her down the hall. 

Jon remembers the way to Davos’s office— as do Robb and Theon, he’s sure— but they let Shireen lead them there anyways. Theon looks over at him, giving him an incredulous little grin. 

Jon knows the feeling. This still feels like it can’t possibly be true. 

“Well, aren’t you three a sight for sore eyes?” Davos says as they step into his office, ushered by Shireen, and Jon can’t help but smile a bit at the gruff, Fleabottom-accented voice of their old manager. Jon had always liked the man immensely— that they had been lucky with. Their old record label, on the other hand… gods, Jon had fucking hated those Disney blokes, from the way they’d acted to the way they’d controlled every single thing the three of them ever said or did while under contract. 

“Good to see you, Davos,” Robb says with a grin, shaking his hand as the other man rounds the desk. 

“Aye, you as well,” Davos says, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable. He turns to Theon next, greeting him like an old friend as well. 

Finally he comes to Jon, pausing for a moment, studying him. His heart speeds up under Davos’s scrutinizing gaze, feeling like he’s pinned under a magnifying glass. 

“You look well, Jon,” Davos finally says, and his gruff voice is gentler, a smile pulling at his lips. “I’m glad you’re doin’ better, son.” 

“Thanks,” Jon says, his voice thick as he too shakes Davos’s hand. Sometimes it’s easy for him to forget that there are people out there aside from his immediate family that were worried when he went spiralling. 

“So,” Davos says, turning back to look at all of them. “What brings you back here?” 

“Well,” Robb says, running a hand through his russet curls. “We’re, ah… we want to get back together.” 

Davos’s eyebrows raise. “As a group?” he clarifies. “As the Almost Brothers?” 

Theon nods now. “Aye. We figured you’d be the best person to make that happen.” 

Davos chuckles. “Well, I never thought I’d hear that you lot wanted to make a comeback,” he says, shaking his head. “But I’m glad that I did.” He takes a seat again, nodding towards the chairs in front of his desk. “Have you started writin’ again yet?” 

“Jon has,” Theon says with a smirk. “And we’ve worked on those two songs with him a bit. He seems determined to make the whole album himself.” 

“I’m not,” Jon says, glaring at Theon. “The songs just bloody came to me. Felt wrong not to write them down, but I never said we had to _use_ them all.” 

“So yes, we’re workin’ on an album,” Robb says. “We’ve no idea how long it will take us, or anything like that—” He looks at Jon and Theon, blue eyes hopeful. “But we want to do this again. The three of us.” 

Davos shrugs. “I won’t lie, you had me at ‘get back together,’” he says, and Robb laughs. “Knowing what you boys accomplished all those years back, when you were still so young— I’m sure whatever you do now will be even better.” He looks at Jon, that gruff little smile back. “You want to prove me right? Let me hear one of these songs?” He nods towards the piano in the corner of the room. 

Jon’s heart speeds up, nerves suddenly flaring— he hasn’t actually played for anyone but Theon and Robb in years. And sure, this is Davos, who was certainly the most supportive of all their team in their previous run of fame, but… still. It’s a kind of nerve wracking apprehension that seizes him. 

“Aye, let’s do it,” Robb says. “Jon, play him ‘Used to Be.’” 

Theon claps a hand on his shoulder as Jon stands, guiding him over to the piano. Jon glances over at him, and the look Theon’s giving him— it’s like he knows the exact turmoil churning in his stomach right now. His hand on his shoulder is a grounding weight, letting him know he’s not in this alone at least. 

“You want the chorus, Jon?” Robb asks. “I can do the first verse if you like.” 

“Sure,” Jon says, sitting at the piano. He doesn’t bloody care either way, fingers stroking over the keys gently. Stupidly, he looks back at Davos, just to see his expression as he watches them. 

The old man’s eyes are kind, lips curled up in a slight smile. It gives him some of his courage back— and so Jon begins to play. 

They’ve changed it a bit since he wrote it, rewritten a few parts so that is isn’t as “fucking mopey and bitter,” as Theon had so eloquently put it, but hearing his brothers sing along with him, harmonizing again like it’s second nature, the music just pouring out of them— Jon can feel his cracks begin to heal up, old wounds that he’d let fester for so long start to heal. It makes him wonder why he ever questioned them getting back together in the first place. 

This is where they belong. It’s just as simple as that. 

They’re met with silence when they finish, all three of them turning to look at Davos. His expression is unreadable, his head shaking ever so slightly, and Jon’s stomach drops in a sudden moment of fear. 

“Well, I was right,” Davos finally says. “This is going to be your best work yet.” 

Jon exhales, Robb grinning like a loon next to him. “So you’ll help us?” he asks, and Davos smiles. 

“I’ll start askin’ around, check in with labels,” Davos says. “See if there’s any interest. But there should be, I think, if the rest of your stuff is like that.” He smiles at them again. “I’ll let you know, boys. And it’s good to have you back.” 

Jon feels lighter as they step out of Davos’s building, tugging his sunglasses on against the bright afternoon sunlight. “Well, that went better than we could have hoped,” Theon says, that cocky grin of his firmly back in place. Jon rolls his eyes, chuckling under his breath. 

Gods, how he’s missed these two idiots. 

“Truly,” Robb says, running a hand through his hair. “Feels good to be back.” 

“Alright, well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Theon says. “We’ve got to finish the bloody album first.” He turns to Jon. “Jon, are you plannin’ on doing that, or would you like our help with it?” 

He makes a face at Theon, but he can tell the other man is teasing him, so there’s no hostility behind it. “I told you we don’t have to use them at all,” he says. “It’s just a nice outlet, after I see Ella and Dany. Writing helps me get my head back on straight.” 

Theon chuckles. “Aye, well, after that you probably need it. I can’t even fuckin’ imagine.” 

“How’s it been, with them? With Dany?” Robb asks, and Jon turns, surprised. The few times the three of them have gotten together in the past two weeks, Robb’s just tried to bring up Dany as little as possible.

“Er,” Jon says, brow furrowing. How exactly does one explain the dynamic between him and Dany right now? 

“Chilly, I suppose,” he finally says, Theon snickering. “I— it’s strange. There’s about a million things I’d like to bloody yell at her for, but none of it does any good. So we’ve been tryin’ to stay civil. For Ella’s sake.” 

“And how is that going?” Theon asks, in a tone that lets Jon know he already knows the answer. This time, he really does glare at him. 

“It could be better,” he says, teeth gritted. “We’ve been better, the past week. But it’s hard, not gettin’ angry, when she’s right there all the time.” 

“I can believe that,” Robb says, making a face. “Gods, if I had to keep seeing my exes all the time—” 

Jon nods, tuning the rest of his cousin’s words out. He knows Robb is trying to be sympathetic, but it’s so much more than just seeing an ex, and he’ll never fully understand that. Never know what it feels like to have someone leave without reason, pull the rug right out from under you. Or keep a secret like Dany kept from him for so many years. 

“I just try to ignore her, mostly,” Jon says when Robb’s done. “Pretend she isn’t there, or just focus on Ella. She’s what matters most.” He exhales. “I love that little girl more than anything, and I need to be there for her. So anything with Dany comes second to her.” 

“That reminds me,” Theon says. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Does Dany… does she know about us?” 

It takes a moment for Jon to realize what Theon’s asking. “You mean the band? Us doing this again?” Theon nods, and Jon exhales again, his shoulders sagging. 

“Ah, no, not yet,” he admits, grimacing. “I haven’t really… figured out how yet. We're already on thin ice as it is, and I don’t want to say anything that could—” 

“That could make her leave again?” Robb says, voice quiet. Jon nods, not meeting his cousin’s eyes. 

“I’ll tell her eventually,” he says, more to assure himself than them. “I just don’t think it’s the right time now. We’re already at each other’s throats constantly. I’m surprised we’ve made it a week without arguin’, really.” Jon exhales, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. “I need to figure out how to let her know without riskin’ that Ella might get hurt.” 

“Jon, I have to say,” Theon says, and his tone of voice immediately breaks the tension of the moment, the fear of Dany finding out about this and taking his daughter from him all over again bleeding away. “I know it’s only been two weeks, but I’m very impressed by how quickly you stepped up. You’ve really embraced this whole “dad” thing, aye? I didn’t think you had it in you, truly.”

Jon laughs, meeting the other man’s eyes, which glint with teasing. “Thanks for your vote of confidence, Theon,” he says. “I’ll make sure when you and Sansa eventually have kids to return the sentiment.” 

“Oh, fucking hells, Jon, you can’t say things like that,” Theon says. “You sound like Aunt Cat, already campaigning for more grandkids. We’re not even married yet.” 

Robb cackles at that, shoving Theon’s shoulder. “Just wait,” he assures him. “It’s going to get _so_ much worse after you are married.” 

“Great,” Theon says with a roll of his eyes, and Jon laughs as well. “I can hardly wait.” 

***

Out of all his cousins, Arya is certainly the one he willingly spends the most time with, so when she texts him to ask if he wants to walk the dogs together, he jumps at the chance to see her again. 

She’s been out of town for work for a few weeks now— since before he found out Dany was back. He’s still not exactly sure what it is she does, but her job requires her to travel quite a lot, so it’s not uncommon that she’ll have to fly off to Braavos or the Twins or something for weeks at a time. 

She smirks at him when she pulls up in his driveway, Nymeria trying to climb into the front seat as Arya unlocks the doors. “Hey, Jon,” she greets, yanking Nymeria’s collar back so that Jon can open the back door, Ghost hopping in gracefully. The appearance of the other dog is enough to distract Nymeria from her attempts to escape, both of them yipping happily as they butt heads in greeting. 

“Hi,” Jon says, climbing into the passenger seat, biting back a laugh at how ridiculous their dogs sound. “Thanks for gettin’ me. How was your trip?” 

Arya shrugs. “Not as eventful as things have been for you, I reckon.” She smirks at him again. “Honestly, Jon. I go to the Eyrie for a couple weeks and you become a father while I’m gone?” Arya shakes her head, putting the car in reverse. “Unbelievable.” 

“Aye, you’ve got that right,” he mutters. “Unbelievable is an excellent way to put it.” 

They cruise through the valley, over to the other side of the city, Arya grilling him about Ella the whole time. Eventually Nymeria and Ghost calm down, the two of them laying sprawled out in the backseat, patiently awaiting their arrival. 

It isn’t until they’re almost pulling into the lot that Jon realizes where they are. 

“Arya,” he says, his voice dangerous with warning. She remains unfazed, just looking at him. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Jon says as she drives through the gates for Baelor’s Garden, continuing down the windy road to the lot. He hasn’t been back here since— well, since before Dany left. “Can’t we go hike the canyon or somethin’ instead?” 

“Street parking up there is a nightmare Friday mornings; they do street sweeping,” Arya reminds him. “And I want to go somewhere where you won’t be bloody photographed. After that picture of Robb and Theon got out there, if _you_ reemerge in public the rags will lose their minds.” 

Jon’s brow furrows, looking at his cousin. “What d’you mean? What photo?” 

Arya rolls her eyes. “That day you all went to the café together, and you yelled at Robb—” 

“Theon,” Jon reminds her, but she seems unfazed. 

“Whatever. When the two of them left, they were photographed together. People have been speculating, whether or not it means the band is getting back together. But people still think you’ve dropped off the face of the planet, so it squashes their theories a bit.” Arya looks at him, incredulous. “You truly didn’t hear _anything_ about that?” 

“Er, no?” he says, and his cousin shakes her head. 

“Gods, you really don’t keep up with the news, do you?”

Jon shrugs. “Not well, at least.” His brow scrunches again. “That reminds me— can you turn off my notifications so that I can stop seein’ every damn article Buzzfeed tags me in?” 

They get out of the car, clipping leashes on Ghost and Nymeria, before heading for the park entrance. A shiver runs down Jon’s spine as they pause in front of the gates, memories flooding back, dancing in front of his eyelids in brilliant color. 

“Hey,” Arya says, nudging him. “It’s alright. It’s just a place. Don’t let it hold so much power over you.” 

“Easier said than done,” Jon mutters, but he follows Arya in regardless. 

It’s the weird rush of déjà vu that he had felt at Davos’ the other day, walking through the park, Nymeria and Ghost bounding ahead of them. A place that he hasn’t been in so long, but is crystal clear in his mind’s eye— like a memory branded into his very soul. 

Thankfully, Arya doesn’t protest when he leads them on a path that heads in the opposite direction of his and Dany’s spot. Being in the park itself isn’t as bad as he’d thought it would be, but going _there_ again… that seems like an idea doomed to fail. It’s a beautiful day to be outside— the fall air is warm, but the humidity is gone, the leaves just beginning to change colors. The oranges and reds look like flames dancing in the breeze, golden sunlight washing over them. 

“So,” Arya says, giving him a look. “When do I get to meet my niece?” 

Jon shrugs. “Whenever you want, really. I see her almost every day. You’re welcome to come with me when you’re around.” 

“Come with you?” Arya asks, and Jon nods. 

“Aye. Dany hasn’t… let her come to my house yet.” Arya makes a face. “I go over there, usually.” 

“Why not?” his cousin demands. “She’s your bloody daughter too. It’s the least she can do, after keepin’ her from you.” 

Jon sighs. “Aye. I dunno. I don’t want to push her, though, make Dany even more angry with me. I don’t want her takin’ Ella and disappearing.” 

Arya gives him a sharp look. “She can’t do that,” she insists. “You have a right to her, Jon. Didn’t you say she put your name on Ella’s birth certificate?”

“Aye, she did, but I don’t have custody of her, or anything like that.” Arya shakes her head at him, like he’s completely daft. 

“If she tries to take her away, you can _sue_ for custody,” Arya tells him. “You have parental rights to her. You’d at least get visitation.” 

“Would I?” Jon asks, exhaling. “After… everythin’ in my past?” 

Arya scoffs. “You’ve been sober for years now. You haven’t backslid once. We’d all testify that you are perfectly capable of taking care of that little girl.” 

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Jon says. “Dany hasn’t really said _why_ she came back, but she’s lookin’ for a house. I don’t think she has any intentions of leavin’ soon. As long as it stays like that, I’m not dragging her to court.” He pauses, eyes cast down. “I don’t want to put Ella through a legal battle. This is already hard enough on her. I just want to be there for her.” 

Arya shakes her head. “Gods, Jon, you’re such a better person than I am,” she says. “I would be suing the hells out of her.” 

“I don’t see the benefit,” Jon responds hotly. “I’m— gods, I don’t want to do that to Ella. Regardless of what happened between me and Dany, Ella loves her more than anything. If I take her mother to court—” His eyes fall down again, Ghost pausing, looking back at him. “I only come away as the villain in that.” 

Arya pauses. “I guess so,” she says, voice more reserved. “I didn’t think of that.” 

“Anyways,” Jon says, desperate to change the subject. “Tell me about the Eyrie. I haven’t been in years.” 

Arya gives him a look, like she _knows_ what he’s doing, but she complies easily, the two of them chatting about her business trip. 

They stroll through the gardens like that, just talking, for what seems like forever. It’s sort of a nice reprieve, Jon thinks, not having to worry about Dany or the band or anything. Just focusing on something else is like a break for his mind. 

“This is actually nice,” Jon says, looking meekly at his cousin. “If we really do this, and we make another album, the places I’ll be able to go without gettin’ harassed and photographed is going to shrink. So… thanks, for makin’ me come here.” 

Arya grins at him cheekily. “Any time, Jon.” 

Jon opens his mouth to reply with something just as snarky, but his phone rings instead, making him pause. Ghost comes bounding back over to him as he fishes it out of his pocket, brow furrowing when he sees it’s Dany. Generally she texts him about coming over to see Ella. 

“Hullo?” he answers, Arya looking at him questioningly. “Dany?” 

“Hi,” she answers, and she sounds beyond exasperated. “I can’t do this anymore.” 

His stomach drops, wildest fears racing through his mind. She’s leaving for Essos again, and taking Ella with her. She doesn’t want him coming over as often as he has been. Having to see him so often is just as frustrating and anger-inducing for her as it is for him. “What d’you mean, you can’t do this anymore?” he demands, heart already pounding. Dany huffs on the other line, and he can hear Ella in the background, calling something to her mother. 

“I cannot take her pleading anymore,” Dany says, and Jon squints, even more confused. “She _will not_ stop asking me about your pool.” 

Immediately Jon relaxes, letting out a hoarse laugh. “Gods above, don’t _say_ things like that,” he tells her. “I thought it was somethin’ serious.” 

“If you think this isn’t serious, it’s only because you haven’t had to listen to her beg to go swimming for two weeks straight,” Dany grumbles, and it makes him chuckle again. “Your daughter is stubborn as all hells.” 

“I can’t imagine where she got that from,” Jon says, rolling his eyes. “Couldn’t possibly be you.” 

Dany sighs. “Now see, I thought it was because of you. I guess she was doomed on that front from the beginning.” Jon laughs again, squinting in the warm mid-morning sunlight. “So, can we come over your house this afternoon instead?” she asks.

“Er, sure,” Jon says. “Of course. Same time?” 

“Yes, if that’s alright,” she answers. “Could you send me your address?” 

“Aye, I’ll text it to you,” he says. “See you at 2?” 

“See you then,” she says, before hanging up. 

Jon stows his phone back in his pocket, glancing at Arya quickly before they continue down the trail. He’s surprised by the look on her face, the way her brows have furrowed together. 

“What?” he asks. Arya shakes her head, eyes still suspicious. 

“You two sound awful chummy,” she comments, and it gives Jon pause for a moment. That’s probably the most civil conversation he’s had with Dany, actually. For once, things had felt— normal. No anger, no pain. Just the two of them, joking around like they used to. 

But things aren’t what they used to be. And he can’t let himself fall into that trap with her. Not after everything that’s happened.

“We’re not,” he assures Arya, shaking his head. “I… we can’t always be mad at each other; it’s exhausting. But I—” he hesitates before continuing. “We’re not… friends. If it wasn’t for Ella, I’d never want to see her again.” 

Arya snickers, eyes cast down, and Jon frowns. “Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself of that too, you know,” his cousin says. 

Jon blinks at her, unsure what to make of that. 

“C’mon,” Arya says, letting it go. The dogs are already pulling against their leashes, anxious to keep walking. “Let’s keep going.” 

***

Jon doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything as beautiful as Dany looks right now, silhouetted by golden sunlight, smiling brilliantly at him. 

They’ve been strolling through Baelor’s Garden aimlessly all afternoon, hands twined together. He’d been ready to drop dead from exhaustion until he picked her up at her flat a few hours ago, and then the sight of her had completely rejuvenated him. She’d gotten a small role in something and had been filming in Highgarden for the past few weeks, and not seeing her had been excruciating. Generally when he and Robb and Theon get back from a session in the recording studio, all Jon wants to do is sleep. But today, seeing Dany again is like his own personal hit of adrenaline. 

“Please tell me you’re joking,” she begs, barely able to contain her laughter. The sound is contagious, and Jon grins as well. 

“I wish I was. All three of us jumped on the table, pretending we were havin’ a real concert— it almost broke, under the weight.” Jon grins. “Plus, Robb wouldn’t stop jumpin’ around.” 

“Oh my gods,” Dany laughs. “How did your parents not _kill_ you? Your aunt especially!” 

“Oh, I had never seen her so mad before,” Jon confesses. “I really thought she might murder Robb. But that summer my Uncle Ned built us a sort of stage in the backyard, and with it came the warning that we best not use Aunt Catelyn’s furniture to practice our performances on again.” 

Dany smiles, squeezing his hand. “That’s really sweet, actually,” she says. “That he was so supportive.” 

“Everyone was, really,” Jon says. “We were lucky in that sense. Drivin’ us hours from gig to gig, helping us pay for demos and studio time and equipment. Even my mum— when we wanted to come to King’s Landing, have a better shot at makin’ it, she moved with us in a heartbeat.” 

Her eyes cast downward, expression suddenly withdrawn. “Hey,” Jon says, leaning towards her, squeezing her hand. “Dany, you alright?” 

She hesitates a moment, before straightening up, meeting his eyes again. But Jon can see that hint of sadness there, hiding behind her amethyst irises. 

“Yes,” she assures him, with a little smile. “Sorry. It just makes me think about my parents.” 

Jon frowns again, his thumb stroking over the back of her hand. In the few months they’ve been together now, she hasn’t spoken of her family very much— he knows she has two older brothers, and that’s about it. 

“My father was _not_ that understanding,” she admits, gaze falling down again. “He still thinks being an actress is a stupid dream. My mother is supportive, thank the gods, but…” 

“I know,” Jon says. “It’s still shitty to not have him believe in you.” 

Dany shrugs, glancing over at him. “I don’t know why I was surprised. He’s not exactly a… kind man. Most of the time I don’t give a shit what he thinks. His disapproval shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.”

Jon hums in acknowledgement. “I never even knew my dad,” he admits. “He took off when I was a baby. Never reached out to my mum again.” He shrugs. “Sometimes I wonder what he would think of what I’m doin’ now.” 

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Dany says, her voice full of surety. “What an absolute idiot, to walk out of your life like that.” 

Jon smiles at her smally. “Yours doesn’t deserve you either,” he says, and she smiles, just a bit. “If he even saw a fraction of your talent and still thought you becomin’ an actress was a stupid choice, well—” He shakes his head. “What an utter idiot.” 

Dany laughs, leaning into his side. “Thank you,” she says, her voice soft. Jon grins, his arm looping around her as they continue down the path. 

“Oh, come here, I want to show you something,” Dany says, taking his hand and tugging him off the paved trail, towards the duck pond in the center of the gardens. He can hear the distant quacking as children feed the birds bread, the cheerful splash of the water from the fountain in the middle. 

“Look,” Dany says, leading him to an enormous willow tree, its swaying leaves as thick as a curtain. Dany parts them, the two of them walking through to the other side, the water of the pond sparkling beyond the tree’s leaves. There’s a bench there, completely hidden from the public eye, in its own little bubble. 

“When you become ridiculously famous soon, and we can’t go anywhere without being photographed, this will be the perfect spot to hide away,” Dany tells him, and Jon laughs. “Our own little world, in the middle of the gardens.” 

“I like it,” Jon says, squeezing her hand. “And that’s, of course, assumin’ that you don’t land some massive part and become ridiculously famous before we finish this album.” 

“How is it coming?” Dany asks, pulling him over to the bench. They sit, Dany tucking her feet under her, facing him so that their fingers can remain tangled together. 

“Pretty good. We have it mostly written now,” Jon says. “And the singles and everythin’ picked out. The blokes from Disney keep talkin’ about all sorts of things they’ll have us do after we release some of the songs. Music videos, guest appearances on their television shows— they were even talkin’ about having us in a movie or somethin’, I think.” 

Dany’s eyebrows raise. “A movie?” she says, almost laughing. “Really? You’re going to act?” 

Jon scoffs. “Gods, no. If they make us do that, they can have Robb do it, I swear. I’m a shit actor. I just want to sing.” 

“Mmm,” Dany hums, leaning into him. He grins again, ducking his head so their foreheads are resting together.

“Y’know,” Jon says, his heart beating fast in his chest. “I wrote a song about you.” 

He hadn’t been planning on telling her that, but. Just the way she looks at him, the way she makes him feel— it’s unlike anything else. It makes all the songs he writes and sings make sense. Jon’s never been someone who had lots of girlfriends— not like Robb, or even Theon, anyways— but whatever this is with Dany, he knows it’s monumentally more than that. It doesn’t matter how old they are. This is… transcendent. 

“You did?” Dany murmurs, a smile tugging at her lips, and Jon nods. “What’s it about?” 

He grins again, arms wrapping around her, and she moves closer to him, till she’s practically in his lap. “How fuckin’ crazy I am about you,” he says, and Dany laughs, the sound pure and golden and melodic, before she leans in and kisses him. 

Every kiss since their first has been just as explosive; the taste of her is like a drug, and all Jon wants is more. His hand tangles in her hair, the other sliding down her back, holding her tight as she nips at his lip, making him gasp against her mouth, her tongue sliding against his. Her hands fist in his shirt as she straddles his legs, her body pressed against his. All Jon can feel is warmth, kissing her back hungrily, his hands finding the edge of her shirt to stroke the soft skin beneath it. 

“See,” Dany pants against his lips, her pupils fat and black. Jon’s heart races in his chest, seeing how undone she looks. “I told you this spot would be great.” 

Jon laughs, kissing her again, slower this time. She sighs prettily into his mouth, arms locking around his neck, and gods, he never wants to leave this spot with her. Never wants to be anywhere other than wrapped up with her for all of time. 

“So when do I get to hear it?” she asks, breathless. Her nose nudges his, foreheads still pressed together. 

“Hm?” Jon says, brain a little fuzzy. “Hear what?” 

“My song,” she says, biting back a smile. “Is it going to be on the next album?” 

“Oh,” Jon says, remembering now what they were talking about. “Er, I’m not sure. There are a few spots left on the album, and the record label did say they wanted another slower one, but I haven’t played it for Robb or Theon yet.” 

Dany’s brow furrows, her head tilting just a bit. “Why not? I thought you always wrote together.” 

“Aye, we do,” Jon tells her. “But this one just… came to me, and so I wrote it down. And I didn’t want to play it for them before I played it for you.” 

She smiles again, her eyes crinkling at the corners, as she leans in and kisses him quickly. “You’re sweet,” she whispers. “And I can’t wait to hear it.” 

Jon leans into her again, heart humming contently. “I can’t wait to play it for you.” 

***

Arya drops him and Ghost off back at his house right after 1:30— he offers for her to stay and meet Ella if she wants to, but she declines. “I really want to,” she says, and just from her expression Jon knows she means it. “But Gendry and I are supposed to go see his sister, and he’ll murder me if I make him go alone.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, a little grateful that he gets his daughter to himself for today. “We’ll figure somethin’ out soon so you can meet her.” 

By the time Arya pulls out of his driveway, he has about thirty minutes to make his house presentable. It’s not exactly a difficult task, as he keeps it fairly clean already— it’s not like he has much else keeping him busy during the day— but he stows away the sheet music scattered across the piano, washes the few dirty dishes in the sink, and halfheartedly tries to vacuum Ghost’s fur off the couch. That’s already a losing battle, especially when Ghost jumps up on it halfway through. 

He hears Dany’s car in the driveway just a minute before two, Ghost’s ears perking up. A car door slams, and his dog is down the hallway like a bullet, barking his head off. 

“Calm down, Ghost,” Jon says, though that does absolutely nothing. He grabs Ghost’s collar as he opens the door, stopping him from bolting out into the driveway. 

Dany’s by her car, helping an impatient Ella out of her carseat. “Daddy!” she says, face lighting up when she sees him, and Jon’s heart squeezes, beaming back at her as she finally scrambles out of the car, racing over to him. 

“Hi, love,” he says, scooping her up into his arms, Ghost running circles around him now that he’s free. She giggles, little arms thrown around him as he holds her on his hip. 

“I missed you,” she tells him, and Jon can feel himself melt, his heart swelling. Gods, he loves her so fucking much. He’d never really thought much of having kids before, but every time she says something like that, he knows without a doubt Ella is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. 

“I missed you too,” Jon tells her, and she laughs again, eyes crinkling with joy. “I heard you wanted to go swimmin’?” 

“Yes!” she says, her little hands grabbing at his shoulders. “I kept asking and asking and asking and Mumma finally said yes.” 

“That’s not an exaggeration, either,” Dany says, closing the car door. “She has not let me forget for a moment.” 

Ella looks quite pleased with herself at that, giggling once more. Ghost, however, has given up in trying to get Ella’s attention, bounding over to Dany instead. Dany jumps when he noses at her leg, tail wagging a mile a minute. 

“Sorry, he’s friendly, just has no personal boundaries,” Jon says. “Ghost, manners, please.” 

Ghost sits at her feet, whining as he gazes up at her, clearly begging for affection. Dany eyes him cautiously before leaning over, stroking his head gently. 

Ghost practically purrs with happiness, leaning into her hand. “He’s sweet,” Dany says, glancing up at Jon, Ella still in his arms. “What kind of dog is he?” 

“He’s a shepherd,” Jon tells her. “Though sometimes I think he’s convinced he’s a chihuahua. He tends to forget how big he is.” 

Ghost flops down on Dany’s feet, rolling over in a clear plea for belly rubs. Jon watches as Dany laughs, _truly_ laughs, kneeling down so she can scratch his belly. 

A jolt runs through him at the sound— he can’t even remember the last time he heard Dany laugh like that. And then she smiles, wide and bright, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he feels like he’s been sucker punched. 

It’s like he’s nineteen all over again, trying to make her smile like that every moment of every day. 

Ghost is infatuated with Dany, tail wagging like mad as she strokes him. _Fucking traitor,_ Jon thinks. Doesn’t his dog know how much pain she’s caused him? Ghost should be on his side here, most certainly. 

Ella is vibrating in his arms as she watches her mother and Ghost. “You want to meet him?” Jon murmurs to her, and she nods fervently, her moonbeam curls bouncing. 

“Ghost, here,” Jon calls, putting Ella back down on the ground, crouching next to her. Ghost rolls back over, obediently padding over to Jon. “Gentle, boy, alright?” he says, one of his hands going to Ella’s back as Ghost sits at her feet. His head is almost level with hers, and Ella stares at him with wide eyed wonder. 

“Ella, this is Ghost,” Jon says, his other hand settling on his dog, reminding him to stay calm. “Ghost, this is Ella.” He turns to his daughter, nudging her. “You can pet him if you want to, love. He’s very friendly.” 

Ella stretches out a hand tentatively, patting Ghost’s head. His tongue lolls, and he noses at her arm, making her laugh. The sound breaks Ghost’s concentration, and he moves forward, licking her cheek. Jon’s heart drops, a hand immediately moving to Ghost’s collar to yank him back, but Ella is unbothered, throwing her arms around his neck instead. 

“He’s a good boy,” Ella declares, her voice a little muffled, as her face is currently buried in Ghost’s thick fur. Jon smiles. 

“Aye, he is,” Jon says. “And you know what? _He_ loves to swim too.” 

Ella turns to face him then, eyes wide. “Really?” Jon just nods, a hand still stroking over her back. 

“You want to see my pool?” Jon asks her. “You can let me know if it measures up to the one at your old house.” 

“Yes, yes, yes!” she squeals, racing through his open front door. “Ghost, follow me!” His dog takes off behind her, barking with excitement. 

“She’s really never going to want to leave now,” Dany says, and Jon turns to face her— he’d forgotten she was there, in all honesty. Her arms are crossed over her chest protectively, beach bag slung on her shoulder. “With the pool, _and_ Ghost…” 

“That’s fine by me,” Jon says. “She can come over here whenever she wants.” His brow furrows. “I _want_ her here, you know that, right? I don’t mind you comin’ here with her instead of me going to you.” 

“I do,” Dany says, but her expression contradicts her words. “I just… I don’t know. I didn’t want to impose, or anything.” 

Jon sighs. “She’s not _imposing,_ Dany. She’s my daughter. I want to be with her, as much as I can.” He shakes his head, trying to tamp down the anger and frustration, and doing a piss poor job of it. “I… this isn't some novelty for me, somethin’ I only want to do when it’s convenient for me. I told you, I’m her father, and I’m goin’ to be there. I want to be involved with everythin’, if you’ll fuckin’ let me.” 

Dany’s eyes steel, her expression emotionless again— it’s a look he recognizes by now. It’s what he sees right before they’re at each other’s throats again. 

But he’s trying to be better. It’s probably been a week since they fought with each other; they’ve been able to remain remarkably civil as of late. That’s what Ella needs, he knows. So he deflects, trying to get the anger back under control.

“C’mon,” he says, nodding to the door. “Ella wants to swim.” 

He finds her inside, tugging on the locked sliding door with such fierce determination that Jon doesn’t doubt she’s Dany’s daughter for a _second._ Ghost is next to her, pawing at the door impatiently. 

“Hold on, love, let me unlock it,” Jon tells her, flipping the lock and pulling it open. Ghost races outside, running laps around the yard, and Ella follows, before coming to a dead stop on the patio. 

“This pool is _amazing!”_ she declares, and Jon chuckles. 

Behind him, he hears a noise; turning, he sees Dany, lurking next to the piano. Her fingers stroke over the polished keylid delicately, like she’s scared it will break at her touch. She looks at the instrument as if she’s seen a ghost. 

Jon hesitates, debating whether or not to open his mouth. Memories come flooding back— sitting on that piano bench, Dany next to him, her chin on his shoulder as he played some stupid melody. His hands covering hers as he’d tried to teach her to play that one time. The way she’d laughed and helped him reorganize furniture in his tiny living room when he’d gotten his first _real_ paycheck and had immediately gone out and bought it. 

_“Jon,”_ she’d said, helping him shove the sofa out of the way. _“You barely have room for your old one. How in the hells are you going to fit a grand piano in here?”_

_“It’s fine,”_ he’d assured her. _“We’ll make it work.”_

He can almost see those images flashing before her eyes as well, and so Jon lets her be. 

Ella is still frozen out on the patio, eyes wide as she takes in his pool. “This is the best pool I’ve ever seen,” she says, and Jon chuckles. It is fairly impressive, he thinks— the sprawling mountains of the Hollywood Hills are visible from the end, the adjoined hot tub creating a low waterfall where the two connect. Ella’s already claimed one of the pool chairs, wrestling her cover up over her head, bouncing with excitement. 

“Here, let me help,” Jon tells her, kneeling down so he can get the zipper for her, which she’d completely disregarded. He manages to get the cover up off of her— not an easy task, as she doesn’t stop wiggling for a single moment— until finally she’s free, standing there in her sparkly princess bathing suit. 

“Thanks, Daddy,” she says, giggling, and Jon smiles at her, his heart melting once again at her sweet little face. She leans over to kiss his cheek, then darts past him, taking a running start for the pool. 

“Ella!” he hears Dany call, looking up to see her in the doorway, pushing the slider closed behind her. “Sunscreen first.” 

Ella lets out a comically loud groan, but Dany’s gaze is unwavering, an eyebrow arching at their daughter. “No sunscreen, no pool,” she tells her, Ella trudging over to the chair again, where Dany deposits their beach bag. 

“But sunscreen is the worst,” Ella complains, holding out an arm for Dany to lather. She makes quick work of it, rubbing lotion into her skin before gently spinning her around to get her back. 

“You know what’s worse than sunscreen? Sun _burn,”_ Dany murmurs. She looks over at Jon, a little smirk gracing her lips. It startles him, seeing an almost-smile from her directed at him. 

“You can blame your father for that, sweet,” Dany says. “It’s his Northern skin you’ve got.” 

Jon chuckles, bowing his head in defeat. Ghost pads over to him, and Jon strokes his side instinctively. “Sorry about that, Ella,” he says. “My skin always burns in the sun too.” 

Finally, Dany deems Ella good, and her smile is bright again as she runs for the pool once more, bare feet pattering on the stone. “Remember, be careful,” Dany calls after her. Ella nods, though Jon isn’t convinced she’s paying attention to her mother at all. 

Ghost barks as Ella leaps into the pool, her shriek of laughter drowned out by the sounds of the splash. She reemerges a moment later, blonde curls plastered to her head, her smile so wide and bright it’s almost blinding. 

She scrambles for the ladder, hauling herself out of the pool. Ghost runs circles around her, his tail wagging as she drips on the concrete. 

“What d’you think?” Jon calls, and Ella beams. 

“Your pool is _awesome,_ Daddy,” she declares, Dany chuckling as she stows Ella’s haphazardly discarded clothing in the beach bag. “Watch me!” 

Jon’s eyes follow her as she takes another running leap, this time cannonballing into the pool. It’s impressive how big of a splash she creates, seeing as she’s so tiny. 

The moment her head is back above water her mouth opens. “Did you see, Mumma? Daddy?” Ella asks. 

“That was incredible,” Jon tells her, smile wide. “I’ve never seen a splash so big! Look, you even got Ghost.” 

Ella turns to look at his dog, who is, in fact, shaking off the water that had doused him. She giggles, petting him when he comes over to her regardless. “Sorry, Ghost,” she says, but he seems to forgive her, because he licks at her cheek again, making her dissolve into laughter. 

“Hey, love, come here,” Dany says, and Ella runs over willingly. “Let me braid your hair back. That way it won’t interfere with your _fantastic_ jumping.” 

Ella perches on the end of Dany’s chair, obediently turning so her mother can braid back her hair. Dany deftly twists the strands back into a neat braid, even with Ella refusing to stop moving. “There you go,” Dany says, smiling at their daughter as she turns back around. “All set. Now it won’t get in your way.” 

“Thanks, Mumma,” Ella says, beaming. 

“Alright, go ahead, go again,” Dany says, her eyes soft. “You need your practice, after all. Before you know it you’ll be so good they’ll be begging to have you in the Olympics.” 

Ella’s smile is so bright it’s almost blinding, and Dany’s eyes crinkle with fondness, leaning in and dropping a kiss on her nose. It makes Ella giggle again, and she throws her arms around Dany, hugging her tightly.

A smile tugs at Jon’s lips, watching the two of them. Dany tucks a curl behind Ella’s ear, before nodding at the pool. “Go on, jump again,” she says. “I bet you can make an even bigger splash this time.” She smirks just a little, her eyes twinkling. “Although maybe wait until poor Ghost is out of the way.” 

“Okay!” Ella says, racing back towards the pool. “Ghost, stand back!” she commands, and he barks, dutifully laying down next to Ella as she prepares to run for the pool. 

Jon thinks her jump is mostly the same as her last one, but that doesn’t stop him and Dany from breaking out into cheers when she resurfaces again. “Amazing job, Ella!” he calls to her, Dany grinning ear to ear. He looks over at her, meeting her eyes, and the warmth he finds there melts his heart. 

For a second, he just forgets. For a second, it’s just them and their daughter, this amazing little girl they created. 

And then the bitterness comes flooding back. The betrayal, the heartbreak. The six years of moments like this, taken from him against his will. 

Jon looks away, eyes casting downwards. He can’t afford to forget. He can’t just let his heart rule his decisions here, choose to set aside the pain in favor of warm glances and bright smiles. If he had his way, he wouldn’t ever see Dany again— that constant reminder of both what was so good and what’s now so bad is dangerous for him. And he can’t afford to lose control, to slip back into old habits. 

But there’s no way to be in Ella’s life without having Dany in his. Jon exhales, scrubbing at his face with his hand. It’s like walking on a tightrope, the danger of falling always imminent. 

The stakes are too high now. He can’t let himself forget everything that happened in the past. Because if he does, and the rug is pulled out from under him once again, he’s not quite sure he’ll survive. 

And he needs to be here. For his daughter. 

Jon avoids looking over at Dany, instead watching with rapt attention as Ella climbs in and out of the pool, soaking the patio with splashes from jump after jump. He’s not sure how she has the energy, really. He’s exhausted just thinking about it, but it seems like she could go on forever. 

Eventually Ella tires of the pool, turning instead to Ghost, running around the yard with him. She finds some of his tennis balls, and his dog leaps after them when she throws them, his tail wagging faster than light. 

“Ella, pick up your towel,” Dany calls when she shrugs it off her shoulders and drops it in the middle of the lawn. Ella seems to miss Dany’s words, because she keeps running, chasing after Ghost in an attempt to retrieve the tennis ball he has. 

Dany rolls her eyes, standing and trekking across the lawn to pick up Ella’s towel before it can get trampled. The afternoon light glints off the pool, the water still rippling from Ella’s earlier escapades. 

Towel retrieved and laid out to dry, Dany comes and sits down in the empty pool chair next to him, crossing her ankles, hands clasped together. She doesn’t look at him, just watches as Ella throws the ball for Ghost again, shrieking with laughter as she races across the lawn after him. 

He can feel the tension between them, so thick and heavy it’s like a living, breathing thing. “You have a really nice place,” Dany finally says, breaking the crushing silence. Jon exhales, chancing a glance over at her. 

It seems strange, that years ago she was someone he could talk to about _anything,_ and now they’ve been reduced down to small talk and meaningless platitudes. 

“Thanks,” Jon answers, eyes finding Ella again. She’s tackled Ghost in a hug, his tail wagging a mile a minute as he tries to lick her face. “The yard is great for Ghost. And I like how private it is. No neighbors tryin’ to look over my fence and snoop on me.” 

“Mm,” Dany says, nodding. “That sounds like heaven.” She pauses a moment, the silence becoming heavy again. “There were a few months when we were filming in Braavos, and I rented a house out in the countryside for us. It was sort of like this— felt like no one was around for miles. Ella could just run through the backyard; she loved it. And there were lemon trees everywhere.” 

Jon squeezes his eyes closed, trying not to let the anger and hurt take control again. He’s been… _so good_ as of late. And then here she goes, rubbing it in how wonderful it was while she was off raising his daughter without his knowledge. While he was back here falling apart. It’s like she’s _trying_ to provoke him, let his temper run rampant once more. 

“What are you doin’?” Jon asks, voice low, his rage barely contained. Dany falls quiet, and he can feel her gaze on him, but he refuses to meet her eyes. 

“What do you mean?” she says. Her tone is careful, guarded. “I’m… making conversation. Would you rather we just sit here in silence?” 

“You know, I would,” he snaps. “I promised I’d be civil, for Ella’s sake. But if you keep goin’ on about your perfect fucking life in Essos, I won’t be able to keep that promise.” 

She exhales, and now he looks at her, recognizes the frustration in her expression. “Well, _I_ would appreciate if you stopped insinuating my life in Essos was perfect,” she retorts. “Like I said before. You don’t have a fucking clue about what my life has been like since I left.” 

“I do, actually,” he says. It’s too late now— he can feel the anger start to take control, the pounding of his heart, the frustration build in his chest. He’s been so good at keeping all his emotions pushed down since he got out of rehab, keeping himself devoid of feeling, and now that Dany’s back he feels like he’s constantly trying to patch a broken dam with duct tape. 

“I know you went over there and filmed your bloody television show, which was apparently more important than tryin’ to make what we had work,” he spits. “And I know you found a shiny new boyfriend, and a shiny new group of friends, and went and got yourself plastered on the cover of every tabloid in the country, braggin’ about how wonderful everything was goin’ for you.” 

Dany sighs, her brows furrowing in aggravation, crossing her arms as she looks at him. “And what about _you?”_ she demands. “What about Ygritte? What about your world tour?” 

Jon freezes, glaring back at her. “At least I waited a while before I went and got with Ygritte,” he says, the anger sinking its claws into him. “Your plane had hardly touched down in Essos before you started shagging Daario.” 

Her jaw drops, and her eyes are like fire, the anger so clear in her face that Jon thinks it might just rival his. “What the fuck is your problem?” she hisses. 

“You _know_ what my problem is,” Jon sneers. “You kept my daughter from me for six years because you were worried I would ruin your life.” 

“For the sake of the gods, Jon,” she huffs. “My reasons for keeping Ella from you were selfish, and I know that. But it wasn’t because I thought you were going to ruin our lives.” She shakes her head. “It goes both ways, you know. The media did a wonderful job of making it seem like your life was absolutely _charmed_ after I left.” Dany pauses, gaze fiery, and it only adds more fuel to the blazing anger inside his chest. “Honestly, I didn’t even _know_ how bad off you were until I—” 

She stops abruptly, her eyes casting downwards, and Jon goes on high alert. “Until you _what?”_ he asks. But Dany shakes her head, refusing to meet his gaze. 

“Until I talked to Sansa,” she finishes. “I… Sansa finally told me.” 

Something pricks at his neck, sending shivers down his spine— like a sense of foreboding, or a half-forgotten dream. But then Ella comes racing towards them, Ghost chasing after her, and Jon has to push aside the anger, a smile pulling at his lips as his daughter barrels into his arms. 

“Ghost is the best dog ever,” she declares, and Jon laughs. 

“Aye, I think so too,” he says, smoothing back her wet curls. “Are you two havin’ fun?” 

“Yes,” she says, her smile so wide that it makes his heart feel close to bursting. All that anger, all that pain from before melts away just with one look at her little face. “Ghost is good at fetch but he won’t always give me the ball back so I can throw it again.” 

He laughs again. Ghost comes up behind Ella, nudging at her shoulder with his nose. He’s almost as tall as she is, gods. “Sometimes he gets so excited about catchin’ it he forgets he has to give it back to catch it again,” Jon tells her. “And sometimes I think he just wants you to chase him.” 

Ella giggles, shifting so she’s sitting in his lap, grabbing for Ghost again. Her bathing suit is still damp, and Jon’s sure she’s probably getting his clothes wet, but he couldn’t care in the slightest. “Remember, be gentle,” Dany tells her, and she nods, stroking Ghost’s head reverently. His eyes slide closed, tongue lolling as he basks in Ella’s attention. 

“I wish he could come home with us,” Ella sighs, her little fingers sinking into his soft fur. Jon’s heart pangs at her words— as innocent as it was, as much as he _knows_ she’s not saying it to hurt him, there’s just more of the reality there that he… isn’t home. He’s something extra. To his daughter, wherever _Dany_ is is her home. 

“I don’t think Mr. Barristan would like that very much,” Jon tells her, pushing down the hurt. He can see Dany looking at him, wide eyed, but he ignores her. It’s her fault, anyways, that he’s not a part of his daughter’s definition of home, and he doesn’t want her pity. “He sheds like nothin’ else.” 

“Don’t worry, love,” Dany says, her smile gentle. “You can come over here and see Ghost as much as you like.” 

“Of course,” Jon adds. “He’ll always be here. And he’ll always be excited to see you.” 

Ella huffs in annoyance. “That’s not the same,” she argues. “Maybe we should just stay _here_ then, while Mumma tries to find us a house.” Jon’s stomach drops; next to him, Dany coughs like she’s choking on something. “Then I could play with Ghost _all the time.”_

“Er,” Jon says, trying not to laugh _and_ not to panic. Dimly, he wonders what Ella even knows about his and Dany’s relationship. If she knows at all why they aren’t together anymore. “You might get sick of him that way,” Jon tells her. “He’s a bed hog, you know. Every night I wake up and discover he’s stolen all the blankets.” 

Ella laughs at that, patting Ghost again. “I’ll share my blankets with you, Ghost,” she tells the dog, and Ghost smiles, Jon swears it. His dog stands, pushing his head into Ella’s lap, licking her cheek. 

“Let’s fetch again!” she declares, scrambling out of Jon’s lap and racing across the lawn again, Ghost barking as he chases her. She grabs the ball he’d left abandoned in the grass, tossing it so far that it rolls and falls into the pool. Ghost, not easily deterred, jumps in to fetch it, scrambling out with it grasped proudly in his mouth. He stops right in front of Ella, shaking off and making her shriek with laughter, shielding herself from the water droplets that fly from his snowy coat. 

“I’m sorry,” Dany says next to him, almost too quiet to hear. Jon’s eyes don’t move, still trained on Ella as he attempts to block out the blind rage he feels towards her. “I… she doesn’t understand, the whole house thing. I’m sorry she mentioned it.” 

He shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he tells her. It’s not as if it’s Ella’s fault— these are consequences of Dany’s choices. “I know she didn’t really understand what she was sayin’.” Jon looks over at her, not sure if he wants to ask the next question. “Does she know that we were… together, at one point?” he says, and Dany exhales, head bowing. 

“I’m not sure,” Dany says. “I’ve never explicitly told her about our past, if that’s what you mean. I don’t know if she assumes we were together before she was born.” She shrugs. “It’s not like she’s had lots of up-close experience with how normal families work.” 

“What, you didn’t go showin’ her off to all your boyfriends?” Jon snaps, the anger in his gut flaring again. Dany rolls her eyes, still refusing to look at him. 

“What boyfriends?” she demands. “What exactly do you think my dating life was like, as a single mother with a small child I was trying to keep out of the media?” Dany huffs again, glaring off across the lawn. “I didn’t just parade all my supposed suitors past her. Hardly anyone knew about her.” 

“Well what about Daario? He knew about her, didn’t he?” he asks, even though he’s fairly sure he knows the answer to that question. She looks at him sharply, her gorgeous eyes exasperated. 

“Seriously, Jon?” she asks, and he turns to face her again. “Of course he knew about her. I was fucking breastfeeding on set for our second season.” 

Jon quiets, because he hadn’t considered that. It should be an obvious thought— of course he knows that she had a baby, and that she was on a wildly popular television show up until about a year ago, but the thought of her actually on set with Ella, taking care of their child all by herself in Essos while trying to work as well— gods, it sort of breaks his heart. If he’d just _known,_ he could have helped her. He could have been there for her. All he wanted before she left was to support her in her career and her dreams, make her life better just like she did for him. As mad as he’d been at her for leaving, he’d still loved her, even then. He would have left everything in a heartbeat to help her raise their daughter, breakup be damned. And she… she completely took that option away from him. 

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Dany says, breaking the silence, and Jon blinks, pulled from his reverie. Her voice is quiet, but the bitterness is impossible to miss. “Because we were broken up, and I am entitled to fuck whoever I damn well please, but there was never anything between me and Daario.” 

Jon blinks, because he might have been a drunken mess after she left, but he wasn’t bad enough to misremember _that._

“What are you talkin’ about?” he says, shaking his head. “I saw the tabloids, Dany. The two of you were everywhere.” 

“It was fake,” she spits back. “It was a publicity stunt, Jon. The two of us were never more than friends.” 

He freezes, letting those words register. 

_“What?”_ Jon says, head turning towards her, but she won’t meet his gaze. “Why?” 

“Well, we had a show coming out, and I couldn’t exactly do a full press tour with a newborn,” she retorts. “A fake relationship between the stars filled the gap. Got our show attention.” 

She turns on him, and while there’s a fire to her eyes, there’s immeasurable pain there too. It makes him hesitate, for just a moment. 

“You really think I would do that? That I _could_ do that? Just be with someone else, right after I left?” 

Jon exhales, looking back at his daughter and his dog, both of them lounging in the grass. “What else was I supposed to believe?” he mutters. The bitterness is back, bleeding in. “Why wouldn’t I believe you were really with him? You were the one who fuckin’ left.” 

Dany sighs sharply, her shoulders squaring, spine straightening. “Just because I left doesn’t mean I didn’t feel anything,” she spits back, voice equally as venomous. “Gods, Jon, I thought you of all people would know not to trust everything you see in the tabloids.” 

“It wasn’t just the _tabloids,_ Dany, it was everywhere,” he snaps. “What else was I supposed to think? All anyone seemed to talk about was how fuckin’ wonderful you were doing in Pentos.” 

“What about Sansa?” she retorts. Jon’s eyes narrow, taking in that fiery glint in her own. “Hmm? Did you ever bother to ask the _one_ person I still talked to how I was really doing?” 

Jon falters, because… no, he didn’t. He’d never spoken to Sansa about Dany after she left. In all honesty, he doesn’t think he really spoke to Sansa at _all_ after Dany left— though memories of those years are fuzzy at best, and most likely missing. 

“I didn’t think I had to,” Jon says, voice rough. He tries to control the anger, push down the hurt, but _gods,_ something about her just draws it out in him. Like some sick part of him _enjoys_ being tortured by Dany. 

“I saw those pictures. Those interviews. Heard all about your new life.” His eyes find hers again. “I knew you well enough to know when you were actin’, and when you weren’t.” 

Dany’s fiery expression melts away, giving way to that emotionless, unreadable mask once again. “Well,” she says, her voice carefully controlled. “I guess you didn’t know me as well as you thought you did.” 

Jon exhales again, taking the easier path, letting the anger rule his decisions for just a moment more. “Clearly,” he says. “The girl I thought I knew would never have left in the first place.” 

Dany turns away from him, crossing her arms over her chest, refusing to look in his direction. _Good,_ he thinks, the beast inside him that demands revenge and fire and blood purring with satisfaction. After everything she did, she deserves to feel just as _shitty_ as he does about all of this. 

But there’s a small, remorseful part of his heart that wants to take her in his arms, apologize, wipe the tears away. Apparently some of him never forgot how to care about Dany. How to want to make her smile, make her feel better. It’s tiny, and it’s mostly overshadowed by the frustration and the rage, but he can feel it there, poking at his heart, gnawing at his conscience. 

“Did Sansa know?” Jon asks, because he’d wondered that, when she’d mentioned her earlier. He tries to keep the hostility out of his voice— that tiny part of his heart begs him to stop hurting her, just for a moment, and he can’t help but listen. 

Dany turns, looking at him in confusion. “She told me she didn’t know about Ella,” Jon says, and Dany’s shoulders sag. “But I know you two talked. Did you tell her?” 

“No,” Dany says. “Gods, no, I never told her. I never wanted to put her in that position.” She exhales again, and she looks so small — that traitorous part of his heart aches again, wants to hold her close and erase her pain. 

“The only people that knew it all were Missandei, my mother, and Barristan,” she says. “Daario and my producers knew too, and some of my other castmates, but they didn’t know she was yours.” She shrugs, head still bowed. “They might have guessed, but they never asked me. And I never told them.”

He just nods, eyes trained on Ella and Ghost again. Just watching the two of them— once again, it eases the tension inside him, that constant tug-of-war between his desire to be civil and his inextinguishable anger. 

Ella throws her arms around Ghost again, looking over to him with shining eyes that match his so well, and Jon smiles back. 

This time, the anger loses. 

***

Days feel empty without Ella now, Jon finds. 

Sometimes it makes him wonder how he did this for so long without losing his mind. The monotonous day-to-day life that’s been his routine for years only makes him feel hollow and restless now. He walks Ghost, he works out, he cleans the house— but everything is quiet and still, void of laughter and noise and little feet racing down the hallway towards him. How did he survive so long as this shadow, a phantom haunting the remnants of a forgotten life? 

He’s supposed to go over Dany’s this afternoon to see Ella again, and he finds himself counting down the minutes, restlessly pacing the house. He’d go over early, but Ella has schoolwork with her tutor this morning, and Dany warned him that if he showed up and tried to help her, she’d just get distracted and never finish it in the first place. 

Finally deciding to try to work on the changes to _Strangers_ he discussed with Robb and Theon, Jon sits at the piano, Ghost curling up next to the bench as he messes with the melody. He’s so absorbed in the music that he doesn’t even realize the doorbell has rung until Ghost scrambles up from the floor, his nails scrabbling on the hardwood as he races down the hall, barking his bloody head off. 

Jon’s brow furrows as he stands, following after his dog. Who would be showing up here now? It’s not as if he gets a lot of visitors, even now that Dany is back. 

Jon swings the door open, Ghost racing out into the drive to circle Robb happily, tail wagging a mile a minute. His cousin laughs, reaching down to pet Ghost’s head, before he looks up at Jon again. 

“Hi,” Robb says, and he looks… bashful, he thinks. Almost nervous. Jon hasn’t seen his cousin look like that in ages. “Er, you mind if I come in?” 

“Course not,” Jon says, swinging the door open. “Ghost, knock it off, come inside.” 

His dog obediently trots in behind Robb, following them both into the living room. “What’s goin’ on?” Jon asks, patting his dog’s side as he leaps onto the couch next to him, settling next to his thigh. Robb still looks anxious, and it’s making _him_ bloody nervous now. 

Robb sighs, his shoulders slumping. “So, it occurred to me that I may have been a bit of a prat,” he says, and Jon can’t help it, he _laughs._ That’s about the last thing he was expecting to come out of Robb’s mouth. 

“I’m not goin’ to disagree, necessarily,” Jon says, and Robb rolls his eyes amiably. “But care to elaborate?” 

Robb smiles bashfully, ducking his head. “It’s come to my attention that maybe askin’ you about the status of the band the moment after you found out you have a bloody _child_ was a tad… insensitive.” 

Jon laughs again. “Maybe.” 

“I’m sorry, Jon,” he says, and the sincerity in his eyes— gods, he hasn’t seen that in ages. Not aimed at him, at least. “That was shitty. I can’t even imagine what that was like, findin’ out about her. And all I could think about was the band. And then for the past two weeks, that’s still been all—” He breaks off, shaking his head. “I’m really sorry, is all.” 

“It’s alright,” Jon says. His heart squeezes, though, touched that Robb would even think to apologize. After all he did to destroy the band the first time— Jon probably doesn't deserve it. 

“It’s really not,” Robb says. “I… gods, the band is important to me, but even then, Rose and Ben would always come first. And I hope you know I don’t expect you to put Ella second to us.” 

“Thanks, Robb,” Jon says, and he’s surprised at how _relieved_ he suddenly feels. He hadn’t even realized that he was worried about that until Robb brought it up. “I meant what I said,” he continues. “I want this, and I _need_ this. But I still have to put Ella first. I want to make sure that I try to make up for… everything I missed.” 

Robb leans back against the couch cushions, his brow furrowing. “How did she take it?” he asks. “Is she… mad at you, for not being there?” 

“No, thank the gods,” Jon says. He realizes then that in the weeks he’s known about Ella, he’s barely even spoken about her to Robb. It’s sort of nice, to have another person here to discuss it all with. Robb doesn’t really understand what this has been like, but he does have kids himself, and that’s at least a start. “I… that’s the one good thing Dany did, at least. She never spoke badly of me to Ella.” 

Robb huffs. “The fuckin’ least she could do, after not even telling you about your own daughter.” He runs a hand through his curls. “I still can’t believe that. I just… I think about the two of you, before she left, and I can’t even… I can’t even align what I knew about her then and what I know about her now in my head. She seems like an entirely different person.” 

Robb eyes Jon warily, before his gaze flits down again, focusing on the floor. “I think… truly, that was what I was worried about, when you found out. I’d never expect you to put the band above Ella, Jon, but I’m scared of Dany coming between us again.” 

And there it is, Jon thinks. That’s the underlying reason for everything, isn’t it? Dany. 

“She won’t,” Jon says. “I won’t let her this time. It’s different.” 

“Aye, I know it is,” Robb says, but based on his expression Jon sort of doubts that. “It just makes me nervous, her bein’ back. When she left last time… we almost lost you.” 

That gives Jon pause, because he would have expected Robb to go on about how Dany’s departure ultimately ended in the band imploding— not show concern for Jon’s health. He’s not even sure he believes what Robb said, because last time, it took him a trip to rehab to even get his cousin’s acknowledgement once more. But he meets Robb’s eyes, and for once, he sees genuine concern. 

He’s still not quite used to seeing that look again, but with it, his anger fades. 

“Last time, I was in love with her,” Jon says, eyes cast down. “Last time she blindsided me and left me bleeding. Now, I… I don’t care about her. I only care about Ella. And if Dany tries to disappear again, I’ll have a fuckin’ legal team on her the moment she leaves.” He pauses, inhaling. It may be the truth, but admitting he doesn’t care about Dany leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Something that goes against what he knew for so long, like he’s betraying the way he’s programmed. 

“I’m not lettin’ her take Ella away again,” Jon mutters. “She… she’s the most important thing.”

Robb nods. “Aye, she is.” Jon smiles, thinking back to her yesterday, running around the pool with Ghost. 

“It’s still hard to wrap my head around, I suppose,” Jon confesses. “I see her, and it still doesn’t seem real. But gods, then she’ll call me _dad,_ or run into my arms, and it’s just like the whole world shifts, y’know? And it’s like I can’t even remember what I used to live for, before I had her.” 

Normally he would be embarrassed to put all that out there— especially with Robb, who he hasn’t really been close to in years. But his cousin nods, the look in his eyes conveying he knows exactly what Jon means. 

“It was like that when Rose was born,” he says. “Margaery put her in my arms and I felt like gravity just shifted. I took one look at her face and I didn’t even know what life was like before she had been born.” 

Jon nods, looking down. He tries not to let the bitterness seep in, because gods— he should have had that with Ella. He should have gotten to hold her when she was born, rock her to sleep, wake up at one in the morning to soothe her cries. He should have been there for _so much_ of her life. And now he’ll never be able to get that time back. 

“What?” Robb asks, his voice concerned. “Jon, you alright?” 

“Aye,” he says, voice a little strained. “Sorry. I just… it makes me think about everythin’ I missed.” 

Robb looks guilty for a minute, eyes casting downwards. “I know,” he says, and he _doesn’t,_ is the thing, but Jon remains silent. This, whatever he and Robb have right now— this feels like old times, and it’s so wonderful and familiar that he doesn’t want to ruin it all by snapping at him now. 

“I… after the band broke up, I know I held onto my anger much longer than I should have,” Robb confesses. Jon’s head snaps up— he doesn’t think he’s _ever_ heard him talk about the breakup. Even once he gradually started to show up in Jon’s life again, after he got back from rehab, the breakup has always been taboo. 

“I realized, eventually, that hangin’ onto anger about things we have no control over is never good,” he says. “It’s shitty, of course. But sometimes you just have to… focus on what you have now. Make the best of that.” 

_Easy for you to say,_ Jon thinks. _You didn’t have your children hidden from you for years._ But he keeps it to himself, because he realizes there’s a truth to Robb’s words. If he keeps stewing over this forever, he’s never going to be able to be what Ella needs for him. 

But a part of him can’t help but be bitter. 

“You know, yesterday she said she wished she could take Ghost home with her,” Jon says, head bowed. “And I realized then that for her home is _Dany,_ not me.” 

Robb exhales, leaning forward. “I’m sorry, Jon,” he says, and even if he doesn’t know what it feels like, to have his kids think of him as something extra, he can tell Robb means it, at least. “I can’t even imagine. But she’ll come around, you know. It’s only been a few weeks, and she loves you already. She just has to get used to this. Soon she’ll never want to leave here.” 

Jon chuckles. “She suggested yesterday that she and Dany move in here while they house hunt,” he says, and Robb cackles. “I thought Dany might actually burst into flame.” 

“Gods, kids are so fuckin’ clueless,” Robb says, still laughing. He sits up straighter, head tilting to the side. “Though you know, she might be onto something. You should redo one of those spare bedrooms you have, make it her room. Then she’ll have a space here that’s hers. And that might help with what you mentioned before.” 

“Hmm,” Jon murmurs, because that’s not a bad idea. And that way, when Dany starts letting her stay here for longer amounts of time without supervision, like weekends or something— 

“I like that idea,” Jon says. “Er, thanks, Robb.” 

Robb grins. “Anytime.”

“I guess I still don’t really know what I’m doin’,” Jon admits, stroking Ghost’s flank. “I feel like I’m in way over my head here. I want to be a good dad, but I have no clue how.” 

His cousin laughs. “Trust me, Jon, no one really knows what they’re doin’. Anyone who says otherwise is lying to you.” He shrugs. “I don’t have a fuckin’ clue what I’m doing with Rose and Ben half the time. You just try your best, really. You don’t have to be perfect.” Robb grins again. “And if you need anything— advice, or help, or just someone to complain to— I’m always here for you.” 

_Always here for you._ Hearing those words come out of his cousin’s mouth sounds like something from a different lifetime. 

“Thanks,” Jon says, and Robb grins. “I’m definitely goin’ to take you up on that.” 

“Just bear in mind, Margaery’s advice is probably better than mine,” he adds, and this time, when Robb starts laughing, Jon joins in, his heart feeling lighter. 

***

“I dunno, I still don’t like it.” 

Jon looks up from the guitar in his lap, glaring at Theon. “What d’you mean, you still don’t like it?” he demands. “You’ve rewritten it eight times!” 

“I know, and I still don’t think it sounds right,” he says. Robb rolls his eyes, throwing a crumpled piece of paper at Theon’s head. 

“Theon, stop being so bloody picky,” Robb tells him. “It sounds fine.” 

“Well, _fine_ may not be good enough anymore!” Theon says, head tilting back in frustration. “This isn’t just some club in Wintertown, y’know. This is going to be an _international fucking album.”_

“Theon,” Jon says, trying not to laugh. “Calm down, for the sake of the gods. You know you can figure it out later, right? We don’t need to finish it today.” 

“I guess,” he says, giving Jon a displeased look. Robb laughs, meeting Jon’s eye with a smirk before his flit back down to the notebook in front of him. 

Jon too looks at the paper next to him, the scribbled out chords he’d written down as Theon played. He squints, studying the notes, playing it out in his head. 

“What if we go back up?” Jon suggests. “On _true._ Like the _ooh,_ at the beginnin’ of the chorus. The words rhyme, so let’s use the same melody as well.” 

Robb and Theon both look at him, eyes wide. “That could work,” Theon says. “Wait, play that for me.” 

Jon repositions his guitar to actually play, glancing over at the amp to make sure the volume is still turned down. The last thing they need is the evil woman across the hall calling the bloody Gold Cloaks on them again for being too loud. 

“Okay, that’s it,” Theon says afterward, scratching out something in his own notebook. “And what if we changed it to ‘bottom line’ instead? I think it might sound better.” 

“Mm, I like that,” Robb agrees. “Let’s do it from the beginnin’, just to make sure.” 

Theon grabs his guitar as well, Jon clambering off the couch as Theon starts playing the opening notes. Jon sings the verses, they’d decided, so Robb opts for air drums instead, playing along enthusiastically as Theon snickers. 

“Robb, you’re going to miss your bloody cue!” Theon calls over the sound of the guitars, but Robb gracefully flips him off, abandoning his air drums in favor of the TV remote, singing into it dramatically as if it’s a mic, not missing a beat of the chorus. 

Jon laughs, joining in with the harmonies. It’s hard not to get sucked into Robb’s energy when he’s like that, dancing his way across the living room, crowding into his space as he holds up the remote-microphone for both of them to sing into. 

Theon rolls his eyes at them fondly, but it doesn’t stop him from joining in with Robb when he turns to him next, Jon singing the second chorus. By the time they get to the bridge, they’ve ended up on the coffee table somehow, dancing and singing like there’s an actual audience before them, not just the mismatched furniture in their flat’s living room, all three of them crowding in like Robb’s remote is a real microphone. 

The apartment falls silent when they finish, the last note fading out, all of them panting from their impromptu performance. The frustration that had been in Theon’s eyes earlier is gone now, the lot of them smiling. 

“Okay, you were right,” Theon admits. “That sounds loads better.” 

“I think that’s it,” Robb agrees, pushing his curls off his forehead. “It’s not gettin’ any better than that, I reckon.” 

“Good, because I’m out of ideas,” Theon says. Jon laughs, hopping off the table, slinging off his guitar and putting it back on the sofa. 

“C’mon, off the table before my mum gets back and yells at us again,” Jon says. Last time she’d caught them, she’d threatened to get rid of the table altogether if they kept using it for performances. It’s really a wonder it hasn’t broken yet. 

“Those harmonies sounded really good too,” Theon says, hopping off the table. Robb grins, stepping down gracefully after him, as Theon turns on Jon, a smirky grin firmly in place on his face. “Y’know, sometimes I wish we had a sister who could sing in the band too, just to hit the higher notes, but then I remember we have you, Jon.” 

“Oh, fuck you,” Jon says, making Theon burst into laughter. “Robb’s falsetto is higher than mine anyways.”

“Gods above, can you imagine Arya or Sansa in the band with us?” Robb asks. Jon chuckles, sitting back down on the sofa and reaching for his acoustic guitar instead. “What a bloody nightmare.” 

“Sansa would spend all her time yellin’ at us for never gettin’ anything done,” Theon agrees with a frown. “And Arya would sit there and enable us.” 

Jon tunes them out, plucking at his guitar absentmindedly, playing out the melody stuck in his head. He can practically see the lyrics he’d scribbled down earlier in the week in his mind, consuming all his thoughts. 

Those gorgeous violet eyes. Her smile. The sound of her voice, making his heart race. The warmth of her body underneath his hands. 

_“Jon,”_ he finally hears, and his head snaps up, broken from his daydream. Both Theon and Robb are staring at him, knowing looks on their faces. 

“What?” Jon demands, probably a tad too defensive. Theon just smirks wider, eyebrows raising at Robb. 

“What’s that you’re playin’?” Robb asks, his tone of voice like he’s speaking with a five year old. Jon frowns, glancing back down at his guitar. 

“Nothing,” he assures them. “Just somethin’ I was messing around with.” 

“It sounds good,” Theon says. “Like, put-it-on-the-album good. Y’know Davos and those record label blokes said we could use another song or two.” 

Jon shrugs. “C’mon, play it for us,” Robb says, pouting. “I want to hear.” 

“No,” Jon says, setting aside his guitar. “It’s for Dany. You don’t get to hear it until she does.” 

“Oh, fucking hells, Jon,” Theon says, leaning back into the couch cushions, cackling. “You are head over bloody heels for this girl.” 

“So?” he says, brow furrowing defensively. Aye, it hasn’t been very long— only a few months, really— but he knows it with unwavering certainty. Dany is something beyond description. She makes him feel like something out of an epic love song. World-shattering and life-altering. 

“Y’know, it’s probably good,” Robb says with a shrug. “I like Dany a lot. And we need some love songs to balance out all the heartbroken ones Theon wrote about Ros.” 

“Fuck you, Robb!” Theon says, snatching a pillow and lunging for his best friend. “As if you aren’t still writing sad love songs about Jeyne!” 

Jon laughs as they squabble, the sound of the two of them almost loud enough that they miss the sound of the door opening. “I’m home, boys!” Lyanna calls, all three of them looking up as she appears in the doorway, shrugging off her bag. 

“Hi, Mum,” Jon says, Theon and Robb disentangling themselves and greeting her as well. She raises an eyebrow at the two of them, before looking back at Jon knowingly. 

“Rehearsal going well, I see?” 

“Always, Aunt Lyanna,” Robb assures her. “We finished another song and everything.” 

“Mmm,” Lyanna hums, still smirking as she takes in the room. Her eyes land on the coffee table, and Jon’s stomach drops when he notices it’s still slightly askew.

His mother sighs, but her eyes still sparkle with amusement. “Boys, please tell me you weren’t dancin’ on the table again,” she says, fond exasperation in her voice. Theon and Robb both jump up from their seats, scrambling to move the piece of furniture back into the right place. 

“Never,” Theon assures her, Robb nodding vigorously. “We just slid it over so we’d have… ah… more room.” 

“Of course,” Lyanna says, but Jon can tell from her expression she doesn’t believe them for a second. 

“I’m going to order us takeaway for dinner,” she says, turning and retreating into the kitchen. “You three behave yourselves.” 

Robb straightens up once she’s gone, the table back in the correct place. “I miss our stage,” he laments.

“Once this album goes platinum and we’re rollin’ in cash, you can buy your own stage,” Theon promises. Robb grins, shoving Theon’s shoulder. 

“That’ll only happen if we actually finish the album, y’know,” Jon teases, standing up as well. Theon glares at him, but he can see in his eyes it’s all in jest. 

“Sorry we can’t all have your unmatched songwriting skills, Jon,” he says. Now Jon rolls his eyes, Robb cackling. 

“Children, children,” his cousin says, spreading his arms to keep them separated. “C’mon now, no fighting. We have work to do. We are _professionals,_ after all.” 

Jon laughs again. “Aye, _clearly.”_

They sit back down, Jon grabbing his notebook again. “Well, I wasn’t goin’ to brag about it, but since Theon brought it up— I _did_ fix the second verse of _Hold On.”_

“Of course you did,” Theon teases. “Please, Jon, bless us with your superior lyrics.” 

Robb laughs as well, Jon flipping off Theon as he reaches for his guitar again. 

“Well, let’s hear it then,” Robb says. So Jon turns back to his brothers, grinning again, and begins to sing. 

***

They’re at Robb’s house, all three of them crowded around the piano as Theon fiddles with the melody for a new song, when Jon’s phone rings. 

They all pause, looking at it, staring at Davos’s name blinking back up at them. 

Finally, Jon reaches over and accepts the call, putting it on speaker. “Davos?” he asks, holding his phone out before the three of them. 

“Aye,” their manager responds. “Are all three of you there?” 

“We’re here,” Robb says, leaning in closer. “How are you, Davos?” 

“Good,” he answers. “I’ve been talkin’ to labels.” 

Jon’s heart drops, stomach twisting itself in knots all of a sudden. He can see from the way Robb’s shoulders tense, Theon’s jaw clenches, that they’re just as anxious. 

The next words out of Davos’s mouth could make or break their comeback, right here. 

“And?” Theon says, voice almost hoarse. 

“And,” Davos repeats. “I’ve had quite a few people _very_ interested in the idea of a comeback from you boys.” 

Jon exhales, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest. Robb laughs weakly, eyes squeezed shut in relief. 

“Truly?” Jon says, because it still seems a little too good to be real. 

“Aye,” Davos confirms. “A lot of people are ready to sign you lot in a heartbeat.” Jon can practically see their manager’s smile through the phone, corners of his mouth just slightly tugging up. 

“You boys get me an album,” he says, “and we can make this happen.” 

Jon looks to Robb, then to Theon, heart still pounding. Their expressions mirror his own— excitement, incredulity, sheer relief. 

This is really going to happen, Jon realizes, and the thought is liberating. 

They’re really going to make a comeback. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from [Every Single Time!](https://youtu.be/fybzkU4tk-8)


	4. every time I lose myself again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Daddy?” she asks, and Jon nods, brow furrowed at the sorrow that’s overcome her expression all of a sudden. 
> 
> Her big grey eyes blink up at him, her lips pursed. “Do you and Mumma hate each other?” 
> 
> Jon’s stomach drops, because this is what he feared. He doesn’t want the frigidness between him and Dany to put a strain on Ella, but clearly that’s become unavoidable. He should have known she’d notice eventually. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Have a chapter to celebrate :) 
> 
> This one is a BEAST but I went back to see if anything could be cut and genuinely it couldn't, so it remains crazy long. Sorry not sorry :) There's a lot that I love about this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it as well!!
> 
> Thank you billions to my beautiful betas, to Alice for that masterpiece of a moodboard, to my tumblrinas for sprinting with me and cheering me on, to Kyler for checking the piano scene for me for accuracy, to Ellie for answering all my dumb questions about talk shows, and to everyone who's been reading and enjoying this story. I'm so thankful for all of you today!! If you celebrate Thanksgiving I hope you had a wonderful, safe holiday, and if you don't I hope you had a wonderful, safe Thursday! Enjoy everyone!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50650606772/in/dateposted-public/)

“No Daddy, this one goes here.” 

Jon nods, following what Ella’s pointing to and depositing his Lego into the correct place. They’re both sprawled on Dany’s living room floor, a mess of plastic blocks scattered between them and instruction booklet long forgotten on the coffee table. Jon’s fairly sure they’re building a bakery from the artwork on the kit— Ella seems to know exactly what she’s doing, so he mainly follows her lead. 

“Mm, that’s better,” Jon says, pressing down to make sure the block is connected right. “What about this one?” 

He dutifully follows his daughter’s instructions as she directs him through the building process, giggling whenever he pretends to put one in the wrong spot. Ella loves Legos, clearly, her smile wide when they finally put the roof onto the structure, the only thing left decorating the interior of the building. 

“Okay, now we need the ovens,” she says, searching through their pile. “Daddy, you can put them together, okay?” 

“‘Course,” Jon answers. “You just tell me what to do.” 

Legos are oddly soothing, he finds. Missandei had given him a look when she’d walked through the living room earlier, clearly sympathetic he’d ended up lying on the ground, but even aside from the fact that Jon will do whatever Ella bloody wants him to, he’s been enjoying putting this thing together. 

“Ella,” he hears from the doorway, and both he and his daughter turn their heads to find Dany hovering there. “You have to start your schoolwork in a minute, love. Start cleaning up, alright?” 

Ella sighs dramatically, but begins to pick Legos up and deposit them back in the bin after a stern look from Dany. With that, she turns again and disappears down the hall, not even sparing Jon a glance. 

They’ve hardly spoken since their fight last week— clearly, Dany had taken what he’d said about not talking at all to heart. He hasn’t really allowed himself to dwell on anything he’d learned from that conversation, Daario related or otherwise, since it had happened. This is probably the easiest way anyways. No more than a cursory ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’ whenever Jon’s spending time with Ella. 

Ella sighs dejectedly as she finishes with the Legos. “Your house is way more fun, Daddy,” she says. Jon chuckles, sitting up fully and smiling at her. 

“I’ll talk to your mum, and see if you can’t come over more often,” he says. “Ghost misses you too.” 

Ella’s face lights up at the mention of his dog, before it falls again. “Daddy?” she asks, and Jon nods, brow furrowed at the sorrow that’s overcome her expression all of a sudden. 

Her big grey eyes blink up at him, her lips pursed. “Do you and Mumma hate each other?” 

Jon’s stomach drops, because this is what he feared. He doesn’t want the frigidness between him and Dany to put a strain on Ella, but clearly that’s become unavoidable. He should have known she’d notice eventually. 

“Of course not,” he tells her. He doesn’t  _ hate  _ Dany, per se, so it’s not completely a lie. “Why do you say that, love?” 

Ella sighs, her little shoulders slumping. Jon pats his lap, and she crawls into it, resting her head on his chest, and it puts him a little more at ease. 

“You don’t smile and hug and kiss like the mummas and daddies on TV,” she mumbles into his chest. “And we live in different houses.” 

Jon exhales, a hand coming up to smooth over Ella’s back. “Not everythin’ in real life is like it is on TV, sweetheart,” he says. How the fuck does he explain this to her in a way that makes sense? In a way that doesn’t get into the entire messy backstory that’s him and Dany?

“Ella,” he says, and she looks up at him, grey eyes meeting his own. “Your mum and I have known each other a long time. And there’s a lot that… happened with us, before you were born. We were together, and then things sort of…” He exhales, knowing he’s doing a shit job of explaining this to her. “Things changed. It’s a bit more complicated with us than your shows on TV.” 

“Like how you had to stay away?” she says, and it kills him, how small her voice is. 

“Aye,” Jon says. “Some things just couldn’t be helped. It wasn’t because of anythin’ you did, I swear it. Your mum and I just have… lots of differences. But that’s why things are different with us.” He kisses the top of her head, hugging her to his chest, and hoping that explanation made sense enough. “It doesn’t mean we hate each other. And it doesn’t mean we love you any less.” 

“Okay,” she sighs, hands wrapping around his neck. “But I still wish we lived in your house all the time.” 

Jon chuckles, squeezing her tight. “I wish you did too, love.” 

She’s silent for a moment, and Jon hopes his words were enough to placate her, but he should have known better. “Why did you and Mumma change?” Ella asks, and Jon squeezes his eyes closed. “What happened?” 

“Er,” he says, trying to think how he can best summarize the past seven years. “Well, we were both pretty young when we met. And then we got older. We wanted different things, I suppose.”  _ Like I wanted Dany, and she didn’t want me,  _ he thinks. 

Ella frowns at him. “That’s silly,” she says. “You shouldn’t have done that.” 

Jon laughs, despite himself. “It’s not always that simple, sweet.” She giggles too, burying her face in his shoulder again. Gods, he wishes it was as easy as Ella thinks it is. Maybe then… maybe everything would be different. 

“Do you ask your mother questions like that too?” he teases, holding her to his chest. Ella sighs in his arms, still not looking up. 

“No,” she says matter-of-factly. “She always gets sad when someone asks about you.” 

That gives Jon pause, and he stills for a moment, letting that new bit of information wash over him. It all stems back to the questions he’s been trying not to dwell on, because still nothing makes any fucking  _ sense. _ Why would she be sad thinking about him? Why would she claim she was a mess after she went to Essos? Why would she keep Ella from him all these years? 

Why would she leave, if she’d loved him? 

“Ella.” Dany’s voice sounds from the doorway again, and Jon looks up, meeting her eyes ever so briefly before she looks down at the little girl in his lap. “Time for schoolwork, love. Say bye to Dad.” 

Ella grumbles, but she hugs Jon tighter. “Bye, Daddy,” she mumbles, and Jon holds her tight as well, kissing the top of her head. “I wish you didn’t always have to go.” 

His heart breaks at that, and he buries his face in her moonbeam curls, holding her for just a moment longer. “I wish that too,” he whispers to her. “But I’ll see you again tomorrow, aye? And then the next day, maybe you can even come over to my house again, and see Ghost.” 

She pulls back at that, smile bright. “Yes yes yes!” she chants, looking over to Dany, still lingering in the doorway. “Mum, can we, can we?” 

“Sure,” Dany says, smiling at their daughter, but the warmth doesn’t reach her eyes. Ella doesn’t seem to notice, but Jon does. “But only if you do all your work.”

“C’mon, go on,” Jon urges her, giving her one last smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” 

“Okay,” she says, giving him one last grin before she’s bounding up the stairs and out of sight. 

Dany moves to follow her, walking through the living room after the little girl. “I’ll text you about times,” she says, meeting his eyes ever so briefly before they dart away again. That’s all she’s allowed him in the past few days— just barely a glimpse. “See you tomorrow.” 

It’s not a question, but Jon nods regardless, standing up and wordlessly retreating from the living room. If that’s how she wants to act, if she’d rather they barely acknowledge each others’ presence— fine, so be it. Easier for him to tamp down all his fucking anger when Dany refuses to even speak to him. 

He makes his way back to the kitchen, where he’d left his phone and keys earlier when Ella had wanted a snack. But he freezes in the doorway, coming face to face with Dany’s mother, who’s at the island chopping something. 

“Jon,” Rhaella says, her expression and voice doing an excellent job of masking her emotions. “Is it two already?” 

He nods awkwardly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Aye, it is,” he says. “Er, I was just gettin’ my keys,” he explains, stepping hesitantly to the kitchen island to grab them along with his phone. “I’m on my way out.” 

Rhaella nods cooly, and oddly Jon feels more nervous now than he does when dealing with Dany as of late. He’s only run into the older woman a few times since he started coming around— she seems to make herself scarce whenever he’s here, or maybe Jon’s just projecting. But while Jon remembers her as being probably the kindest woman he’d ever met, back when he and Dany were together, he’s yet to see any of that warmth directed at him now.

“Ah, I’ll see you soon, Mrs. Targaryen,” he says, nodding his head at her. She raises an eyebrow, studying him with cool composure. 

“Jon, you’re nearly thirty years old now,” she says, and is he imagining it, or is there just a hint of a smile pulling at her lips? “I think you can call me Rhaella.” 

“Sorry,” he says immediately. “Er… old habits, I suppose.” 

She nods, returning back to whatever she’s cooking. “Well, I’m sure I’ll see you soon enough,” she says. 

“Aye,” Jon responds. “Er… have a good afternoon, then.” Rhaella just nods again, not looking up, and Jon takes the opportunity to flee the house. The last thing he needs is to run into Missandei, and face  _ her  _ scrutinizing gaze as well. 

Commuter traffic in the valley is abysmal, and the stop-and-go pace makes Jon wonder why he still lives in this shit city for about the ten millionth time. He drums his fingers against the steering wheel as he taps the brakes yet again, attention wandering with the sluggish pace he’s travelling at. The afternoon sunlight makes the mountains on the horizon hazy and golden, the sky a perfect shade of faded blue. 

His attention no longer focused on the road, Jon can’t get Ella’s words out of his mind. Does bringing him up really upset Dany enough that their  _ daughter  _ notices the difference? And more importantly— why? 

He knows she keeps telling him her life in Essos wasn’t the picture-perfect thing the tabloids boasted about, but it’s hard to believe otherwise. If she didn’t care more about the role than him, she wouldn’t have left. If she’d been hurting as much as him when they were separated, she would have come back. If she actually gave a damn about him, she would have told him about Ella. 

He groans, eyes sliding shut in frustration. None of it makes any fucking sense, and thinking about it makes his head hurt. Dany goes and says one thing, but all the evidence and her actions go and suggest another. He just wishes someone would lay all the facts out before him, easy to see, so that his mind would stop reeling all the time. 

That’s when he remembers what she’d said. 

_ Did you ever bother to ask the one person I still talked to how I was really doing?  _

It seems like a lifetime before the traffic lets up and he’s pulling back into his driveway, parking the car. Ghost greets him happily when he opens the door, Jon scratching his ears as he follows his dog inside. 

He stares at his phone on the counter for probably ten minutes, debating. He should just call, he knows. He should ask her and then have the answers he’s been so desperate for. Because while his cousin might not have known about Ella, something in his gut tells him that she knows about everything else. She and Dany— gods, they were like sisters before it all. They told each other everything. 

But asking— that means that he’ll know the truth. And that prospect terrifies him. 

What if Dany’s not lying? What if she did still love him? What if he  _ did  _ do something to make her feel like she had to make an impossible choice? 

The uncertainty of it all tortures him. So finally, he picks up the phone, and he dials. 

Sansa answers on the third ring, clearly surprised to hear from him. “Jon,” she says, though she sounds almost pleased. “Are you alright?” 

“Aye, I’m fine,” he says. “I was wonderin’. Do you, ah… can you talk?” 

She pauses, evidently puzzled. “Sure,” she says. “What’s up?” 

Jon exhales, not exactly sure how to start. “Well, I…” He sighs again, starting over. “Dany and I got in another fight last week,” he finally says, scrubbing at his face with his hand. “And she mentioned… I dunno,” he trails off, feeling foolish. Maybe this was a stupid fucking idea after all. 

“What is it?” Sansa says, and he can tell she’s gone into supportive sibling mode, her tone soothing and even. “What did she say?” 

He hesitates for a moment, finally deciding to just spit it out. “I always assumed after she left for Essos that what everyone said was true,” he admits. “That she was fine. Better, really. But I just— I don’t know.” 

Sansa pauses. “Are you asking me?” she finally says. “You want to know if that was true?” 

“I guess,” he says, eyes casting down. Ghost pads over and lies across his feet, comforting him. 

His cousin exhales, like she’s trying to find the words. “Jon,” she finally says. “She was a mess after she left. She was wrecked.” There’s another pause. “Did you really… did you really believe she was fine?” 

Sansa’s words hit him like a freight train, his eyes squeezing closed. He’d wanted answers, but somehow this makes it even more confusing. “What else was I supposed to think?” he asks his cousin. “She  _ seemed  _ fine. She was laughin’ on talk shows, and havin’ her photo taken everywhere she went.” 

“You did the same thing,” Sansa reminds him gently. “Right afterwards, you soldiered through for the band. You kept up appearances for the tour. You wouldn’t tell anyone how much you were hurting.” 

“Aye, but that’s different,” Jon says, shaking his head. He can practically see Sansa frown at him, and it just makes him more irritated. 

“How so?” 

Jon huffs hotly, the anger taking hold again, beginning to sink its claws in. “Because I wasn’t the one who left,” he says, voice full of bitterness, of years and years of anger and unknowing. 

Sansa exhales, pausing for a moment. “The two of us never spoke much about everything that happened between you two,” she says. “I mean— I knew what happened, but I never asked for details. I didn’t want to pry. And Dany didn’t want to talk about it.” There’s silence for a moment, Jon’s stomach a sickening mix of dread and anticipation. “I don’t know what made her up and leave with no warning. I know she wanted to take the role, but—”

“Sansa,  _ I  _ wanted her to take the role,” Jon reminds her. “I never wanted her to turn it down. Even if it meant she’d have to spend months every year in Essos. I knew what an opportunity it was for her.” He runs a hand through his hair, eyes squeezing closed. “I just never wanted her to pack up and leave for good.” 

There’s quiet on the other line, Jon’s heart aching in his chest. That’s the thing that kills him, that tortured him enough that he lost himself in the wake of it all. How he’d thought he had everything figured out, and then the next minute— everything was different, without warning. 

“I don’t know why she left,” Sansa says finally, softly. “I don’t know what was going through her head. And she never told me how hard things were after she moved.” She pauses. “I think she didn’t want to talk about you to me, and put me in that position where I knew things you didn’t share with me. We never really talked about how she was feeling about… you two ending. But I could tell,” Sansa says. “She was a wreck. She was barely holding it together.” 

The silence is deafening as those words wash over Jon. Maybe asking Sansa was a terrible idea in the first place. Because if it’s true— if Dany was just as heartbroken as he was— then that changes everything, opens up a whole new series of questions. 

“You’re not fucking with me, right?” Jon says, voice strained. Sansa huffs, affronted. 

“Why in the world would I joke about this?” she says. 

“Because it makes no sense,” Jon insists. “I— the two of us had a plan. We were goin’ to make it work, with her in Essos half the time. We had it figured out.” He shakes his head. “And then she just… left. And never came back. Why would she do that if she cared about me still? Why would she stay away if she was heartbroken as well?” 

His heart aches dully at the memory— a shadow of the pain that used to consume him. He’d learned to shove it away for so long, but now that Dany’s here again all she does is remind him. Like poking at a bruise that’s only half healed. 

“This is going to sound… insensitive,” Sansa says, and Jon rolls his eyes. 

“Oh, fantastic.” 

“Maybe you should try asking her about it,” his cousin suggests. “Without screaming at her.” 

“Thank you, Sansa, what a novel idea,” he says, words dripping with sarcasm. “I’ll just forgive her for hidin’ my daughter from me too, while I’m at it.” 

“I’m not saying you should forgive her,” Sansa responds. “I just mean…  _ clearly  _ you want answers. And I don’t think she’s ever going to give them to you if you verbally assault her every time you talk.” She pauses. “Obviously there’s more to the story than you know. Or remember, even.” 

He exhales, scrubbing at his face. “Aye, I suppose so.” He grimaces. “It’d be a lot easier if you would just ask her for me, y’know.” 

“Oh, no, I am  _ not  _ getting involved in this,” Sansa says. “This is between you and her. It’s your mess to sort out.” 

“Mm,” Jon says, the bitterness bleeding back in. “A mess that Dany created.” 

He can practically see Sansa roll her eyes. “You may be right, but if you don’t try to  _ work it out,  _ you’re going to spend the rest of your life hating her,” she says. “And while that may seem easier now, just think of how that will affect Ella. How that will affect  _ you.”  _ She pauses, and when she begins speaking again, her voice is more hesitant, almost trembling. “Jon, I don’t want this to push you off the edge again. I don’t want you to fall back into old habits.” 

He exhales. “I’m not goin’ to start drinking again, Sansa. Not with Ella around. She needs me. Being there for her is what matters most.” 

“And don’t you think it would be easier to be there for her if you weren’t constantly trying not to get into a shouting match with her mother?” Sansa asks. 

He squeezes his eyes closed, thinking back to what Ella had said earlier. How she’d wanted to know if he and Dany hated each other. Things probably  _ would  _ be easier, if the animosity between them wasn’t so noticeable to their daughter. 

“Just think about it,” Sansa says. “Not necessarily… forgiving her. But coming to a truce.” 

Jon sighs. A truce— it’s probably not a bad idea. But letting the anger overpower everything is so much easier. 

“Anyways,” Sansa says, her voice brighter. “When do I get to  _ meet  _ Ella? I’ve been trying to give you space, because I know  _ you  _ just met her, practically, but I’m beginning to get impatient.” Jon chuckles, thinking of how Arya had said something so similar. “And I know Theon wants to meet her too, even if he won’t push you on it.” 

“Soon,” Jon promises. “Maybe… I dunno. I’d have to talk to Dany about it. But I want her to meet all of you as well.” 

“I’m just saying,” she says. “If you don’t do that soon, I am going to just show up at Dany’s house unannounced to meet my niece. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

Jon laughs. “Aye, noted. I’ll see what I can do.” 

***

Sansa’s words hang with him for the rest of the day and into the next. 

There’s an awful lot of truth to them, he supposes. It  _ is  _ gnawing at him, that desire to know what changed. What drove Dany away. What made her decide to never come back. He used to be able to push it all down, forget about it, but it’s exacerbated now that he has to see her so often. Every time he looks into her eyes, he feels like he’s on the verge of screaming it, trying to choke the words down. 

_ Why did you leave?  _

Maybe getting clarity on the issue will help him. And besides,  _ knowing  _ isn’t the same as  _ forgiving.  _ Jon’s fairly positive he’s never going to be able to forgive Dany for keeping Ella from him, at least. How the hell could he? But maybe knowing why she left, why she upended all their plans, all  _ his  _ plans for them— maybe that will make things more bearable. 

He thinks of that diamond ring he still has buried somewhere in a drawer, how he’s incapable of both looking at it and getting rid of it, and realizes closure on the whole matter might not be so bad. 

Next to him, Ella giggles as Jon flips the page of the book they’re reading, snuggling closer to him on the sofa. “She lifted up the dragon’s ear and put her head right inside,” Jon reads, Ella fighting back another fit of laughter. “She shouted as loud as she could, “Hey, dragon!” But the dragon was so tired he didn’t even move.” 

Ella’s curls tickle his arm as he turns the page again, continuing to read. She grins when they reach the end, looking from the picture of the princess skipping into the sunset up to meet his eyes. “I like that story,” she tells him, Jon smiling as he closes the book. “Even though the dragon’s mean.” 

“Well, he’s not as mean as the prince,” Jon reasons. “So I don’t think he’s really the villain.” 

“That’s good,” Ella says with a sigh, leaning against his arm again. “Mumma doesn’t like stories that are mean to dragons. She likes dragons a lot because she has them on her show, she says. She doesn’t let me see them, though.” That last sentence sounds a bit begrudging, and Jon almost has to laugh. Dany’s show, while wildly popular and critically acclaimed, is certainly not appropriate viewing for children. 

“Mm,” Jon hums. “Dragons do get a bad reputation a bit, don’t they? I doubt they’re really all as mean as they’re made out to be.” 

Ella nods, her little face scrunched up pensively. “Sometimes they seem scary, but that’s just because they’re big and breathe fire.  _ I  _ think dragons are nice if you’re nice to them.” 

“I think you’re right,” Jon agrees, and she grins at him, her smile like the sun. “D’you have any other books about dragons?” 

Ella nods excitedly, scrambling off the sofa. “I can go get them!” she says, bouncing up and down. “And we can read those too!” 

“Aye, let’s do that,” Jon says. But then he remembers what he’d decided earlier, and thinks this is probably as good a chance as ever. He’s going to have to leave soon anyways— it’s almost dinnertime. 

“Er, Ella,” Jon says. “I’ve got to talk to your mum about somethin’ real quick, alright? Do you want to go get your books and I’ll be back in a minute?” 

Ella smiles. “Okay, Daddy. Can you ask Mumma if Ghost can come have a sleepover with me too?” 

He chuckles, ruffling her curls, making her laugh even more. “Aye, I’ll see. Go pick out some good books for us, alright?” 

She bounds up the stairs two at a time, making a mad dash for the bookshelf in her room. Jon exhales, steeling himself for what he knows he has to do now. The prospect of apologizing to Dany for his hostility, and then digging up the past to try to get closure isn’t exactly an exciting prospect. But it has to be done, he knows.

He heads down the hall to the closed door of Dany’s office, trying to think calming thoughts. He can do this. He can have a civil conversation with her. For their daughter’s sake, at least. And his own peace of mind.

“Dany,” he hears, coming to a halt outside the doorway. He hadn’t realized Missandei was there with her, and so he hesitates. “You can’t just keep ignoring it forever. You have to make a statement eventually, sooner rather than later.” Missandei pauses, Jon holding his breath. He knows he shouldn’t be eavesdropping, and yet… 

“E! is already running with the story, and the longer you go without speaking, the wilder the conspiracies are going to get,” Missandei continues. “I can get you on a talk show in the next few days— I’ve already had calls from a few. Something that’s a softball, that won’t grill you on it.” 

“Gods, I don’t want to go on a fucking talk show about it,” Dany moans. “I don’t want to have to say  _ anything.  _ Do I really have to?” 

There’s silence. “You don’t  _ have  _ to do anything,” Missandei says. “But as your publicist, I’m telling you— saying nothing will be worse. The tabloids are already going nuts. Tyrion’s working to get as much pulled as he can, but there’s only so much he can do.”

Dany groans again. “This is exactly what I didn’t want,” she says. “I never wanted to force Ella into the public eye. I just wanted to let her grow up with a semi-normal life, not be hounded by cameras everywhere she goes when she’s just a child.” She sighs, and Jon can almost picture the look on her face, the way she’s probably buried her head in her hands. “And then what— once people  _ know  _ about her, everyone’s going to want to know who her father is. If she’s Daario’s, or Jon’s, or I don’t even bloody know, someone else—” 

Jon hadn’t even thought about that, when he’d seen that video of Ella. The insinuation that people might believe his daughter is Daario’s makes him sick to his fucking stomach. But it’s not so simple, just coming out and telling people she’s his either. If the press knows that, they’ll descend like locusts, trying to unearth the truth of whatever happened when the two of them broke up. 

Hollywood’s been speculating about it for years, but so has Jon. The last thing he wants is fans and reporters and all of the  _ shit  _ people in the world who think they’re entitled to his life just because his songs get played on the radio trying to pry into something he doesn’t fully understand himself.

“I can’t do that to Daario,” she says. “I can’t pull him into some scandal; he just got engaged, and I don’t want to ruin that for him. Not after everything he did for me.” She sighs. “But admitting she’s  _ Jon’s—  _ all of a sudden that pulls him back into the public eye as well. And gods, I can’t… after all he’s been through, I don’t want to do that to him. I know what his privacy means to him.” 

His heart pangs at that, her words taking him by surprise. After everything that’s happened, everything he’s said to her over the past few weeks— it wouldn’t surprise him at all if she wanted him to rot in the seventh hell. To hear even a hint of compassion, of sympathy for him in her words— it’s jarring, to say the least. Something he never thought he’d experience again. 

“Listen,” Missandei says. “I think the best thing to do is get the narrative back under your control. If you don’t say anything, the tabloids are going to start speculating anyways. And then you have a whole fleet of rumors and gossip you’re up against. I can get you an interview with vetted questions where you only talk about what  _ you  _ want. Say how you’ve wanted to keep her out of the spotlight so that she can have a normal life. And then, if people start disrespecting that and prying, they’re the arseholes, not you.” 

“Fine,” Dany relents, and she sounds so tired, it makes his heart ache. The media and their fucking ruthlessness— that, more than anything, he can sympathize with. There’s a reason he all but disappeared off the grid when he got back from rehab, and most of it was that he didn’t want the bloody paps hounding him about his recovery. As if they actually cared about  _ him,  _ actually thought about anything other than selling another headline. 

“Ugh, what a fucking nightmare,” Dany says. “All of this. I wish I could strangle whoever leaked where we were that day.” Missandei makes some noise of comfort, probably trying to soothe Dany. 

“I never wanted the world to find out about Ella like this. I never wanted  _ Jon  _ to find out this way,” she mutters, voice actually regretful. “From some fucking tabloid video some shitty person recorded on their cell phone.” 

“He should have found out from you,” Missandei prods gently, and Jon has a feeling she’s being more of a friend than a publicist right now. “You should have told him years ago.” 

Jon’s chest tightens at the words. It’s odd to hear Missandei say that— he assumed she would be solidly on Dany’s side in this. But of course, he can’t help thinking again how different things would be now if she had told him years ago. 

He would have been there, for starters. And maybe they would have fixed things. Maybe during sleepless nights of soothing their baby daughter they could have talked about it, figured out what went wrong. Resolved everything that tore them apart, found their way back together. Maybe they could have been a  _ family.  _

If she’d told him, when the tabloids inevitably found out about Ella, there’d be no debate over who her father was, because he would have been by her side the whole time. 

“I know,” Dany mutters. “I know I should have. I should have told him on the phone that night. Or I should have called him a thousand other times, over the years.” There’s another pause. “Gods, what a fucking mess I’ve made of everything, Dei. I can’t even blame him for hating me. I would too, if I were him.” 

While it’s cathartic to hear Dany say something he’s been thinking since the moment he found out he was a father, his stomach begins to tangle itself in knots, guilt creeping in for listening for so long. Before she can admit to anything else he’s not supposed to hear, Jon knocks on the door, the room beyond falling silent. 

“Er, Dany?” he calls, and there’s a shuffling noise before she’s pulling the door open, peering at him. She looks composed, cool and collected, but he can see that her eyes are glassy— a bit of the facade cracking. 

“What is it?” she asks, tone detached, void of all the emotion he’d heard just moments ago. “Is Ella alright?” 

Jon nods. “Aye, she’s fine. Er, she’s pickin’ out more books about dragons for us to read. I just…” He exhales, steeling his nerves. “Could we talk, maybe?” 

Dany looks behind her at Missandei, who nods wordlessly, standing up. “I’m going to make a few calls, okay?” she says, patting Dany’s shoulder. “We can discuss more later.” 

“Okay,” Dany says with an exhale, her shoulder sagging. As Missandei retreats down the hall, Dany nods for him to come in, closing the door partially behind him. 

“What is it?” she says, and the way she crosses her arms over her chest, steels her expression— it looks like she’s preparing for another fight. Another verbal beatdown. And while he’s not quite ready to let his anger go, he can see now, he has to try to control it around her. Otherwise she’s going to get to a point where she won’t take it anymore. And what would that mean for his relationship with Ella? 

“I wanted to… apologize,” he says, the words feeling strange in his mouth. Dany loses her composure completely, eyes going wide with shock. 

“You did?” she asks, incredulous. 

“Aye,” Jon says.  _ Gods,  _ this is uncomfortable. “I’m sorry for assumin’ things, about how your life was in Essos. It wasn’t fair of me to judge you based on the tabloids.” He shakes his head. “I know that they’re garbage, and I believed it blindly anyways.” 

Dany looks down, her expression a bit less guarded. “I did the same thing,” she says quietly. “I thought everything with you was completely fine. That you were having the time of your life on tour.” 

He smiles humorlessly. “I guess we both should have known better, aye?” Dany nods, looking up to meet his eyes, and for just a moment there’s a hint of light in them again. 

“I spoke to Sansa,” Jon continues, and her expression grows surprised again. “She told me the truth of it. I just…” He exhales, heart racing, steeling himself. Gods, being vulnerable with people again is still such an adjustment for him. Especially with her. 

“I don’t understand,” he finally manages to get out. “I thought that we had everythin’ figured out, yeah? And then you left.” Jon shakes his head. “I don’t get it, Dany. Why?” 

He holds his breath as she looks at him, amethyst eyes glassy again. “Jon,” she whispers. “It wasn’t… it was nothing you did on purpose,” she says. “I could just see the road ahead of us, and I knew it wasn’t leading anywhere good. And I did… what I thought was best.” She shakes her head. “And then I found out I was pregnant, and everything changed again.” 

He sighs, because he thought he’d feel relief, hearing Dany’s reasoning, but he’s just more confused now. “That still doesn’t make any bloody sense,” he says. “That still doesn’t answer my question.” 

“I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it all with you,” she admits, biting her lip. “I’m glad you’re in Ella’s life now. I  _ want  _ you to be in Ella’s life now. But I…” Her voice trembles. “I can’t relive all of that now. Okay?” 

Jon exhales slowly, trying not to give into the anger that’s fighting to take control. He can’t do that again, he knows it, even if it’s there, so close to simmering over. It’s beyond frustrating, being so close to the truth he so craves, and to be fed half-answers and vague reasonings instead, but a part of him understands, he supposes. If she asked  _ him  _ to bare his soul about all the pain he’d felt right after she left, he’s not sure he could. 

“Okay,” he manages to get out. “That’s okay. I— well, I just think things would be easier on Ella if we maybe… called a truce, I suppose.” Dany’s brow furrows, looking at him curiously. “I’ll stop making assumptions about you. And I’ll stop letting my anger get the better of me.” 

Dany quirks an eyebrow at him, almost amused. “You know, you said that last time,” she reminds him. “And it didn’t stop you from screaming at me about Daario.” 

Jon huffs, looking down again— truly, not his finest moment. “I know,” he admits. “Look, I can’t promise I’ll forgive you for what you’ve done. But I’ll try to get better about controlling my temper.” 

Dany looks at him, her expression hard, eyes boring right into his. It takes his breath away, makes his heart race. It feels almost like she’s staring right into his soul, like she still knows exactly what resides there, can read it as easily as a book. 

“Okay,” she says. “I would appreciate that.” She nods, crossing her arms decisively. “Is that all?” 

“Er, no, actually,” Jon says, a hand running over the back of his neck. Why is the next part somehow  _ worse?  _ “My cousins— they all want to meet Ella. They’ve told me so repeatedly.” 

“Oh,” Dany says, blinking at him. “Well, okay.” 

Really, he’d expected her to put up a bit more of a fight than that. “Okay?” he says. She nods. 

“What were you thinking? I don’t want to… overwhelm her, or anything,” Dany says. “It’s been just us for so long that she really has no idea what it’s like to have a big family.” Her expression clouds again, gaze darting down. “And I know that your cousins aren’t exactly the biggest fans of me, right now.” 

“That’s not true,” he says. “I… well, Arya, maybe. But Sansa still loves you.” He chuckles. “She warned me if I kept Ella from her much longer she was just goin’ to show up here unannounced.” 

Dany smiles too, just a bit. “Well, in that case, I suppose we better give her a date,” she says. “Maybe in a week or so? I would want to talk to Ella first. Prepare her a bit, I guess.” 

Jon nods. “Robb was talkin’ about having a barbeque in a week or two, before it starts gettin’ too cold and they have to close the pool,” he says. “She could meet Rose and Ben, too. Her cousins. And you could bring Missandei.” 

Dany looks at him, almost amused. “As a buffer, you mean?” 

Jon shrugs.  _ As an ally,  _ he was more thinking. Ella will hopefully distract them, but even if he’s still furious with her, he doesn’t necessarily want to throw her to the wolves. Sansa will keep the others in line, at least. He hopes. 

“Okay,” she finally says. “I’ll think about it, but… probably.” 

Jon nods, and that tightness in his chest loosens a little bit, the simmering anger in his gut calming back down. It’s not a solution to everything, but it’s progress, at least. Progress he can work with. 

And maybe that means that soon, she’ll be ready to tell him why the fuck she left. 

“Daddy!” Ella’s voice sounds, both he and Dany turning as the door swings open to reveal their little girl, her arms full of books. “I found lots of good ones for us.” 

Jon chuckles, reaching over to take some of them from her arms before she drops them all. “Mm, these do look good.” He surveys the cover of one of them, taking in the huge winged beast illustrated there. “Is the dragon in this one nice?” 

“Of course,” Ella says, and Jon turns at the sound of Dany’s chuckle, her expression unusually soft as she looks at the two of them. 

It does something to his heart, seeing her look like that again. Makes him feel lighter; dissolves some of the anger and frustration that always sits in his stomach like a weight. 

“C’mon,” Jon says, turning back to their daughter. “Let’s go read.” 

***

The Grove is particularly crowded for two in the afternoon on a Tuesday, though Jon guesses he shouldn’t be surprised, seeing as how beautiful it is outside. The late fall sunshine is warm and balmy, the temperature out perfect in his mind— not unbearably hot, like in the summer months, but not frigid like the winters of Winterfell. 

When Theon had called him up and asked if he wanted to run errands with him and grab a bite to eat, Jon’s first thought was that there had to be some ulterior motive. People didn’t just  _ call  _ him and ask him to do things— not aside from Arya, anyways. Theon had laughed when Jon asked him if he was serious, his immediate reaction making Jon feel a little foolish. 

_ This isn’t the past,  _ he had to remind himself.  _ People… care about you again.  _

“I figured maybe you could use a distraction from all the shit going on right now,” Theon had reasoned. “And I need to get Sansa an anniversary present.”

Jon had laughed. “What, the engagement ring wasn’t enough?” he’d asked. 

“Aye, I should have just held out another month, right? Dumb mistake on my part.” He’d paused. “Margaery told me exactly what Sansa wants and what store they have it at, but I still don’t have a fuckin’ clue what it is. So what do you say? Want to get lunch with me, and offer emotional support while I shop for your cousin?” 

“Y’know it’s weird when you say that, right?” Jon had said with a laugh. He knows, realistically, Sansa and Theon didn’t start dating until after the band broke up, and that they’re not  _ actually  _ related in any capacity, but he still considers Theon like his brother. “But sure. As long as you buy the food.” 

Shopping for Sansa isn’t as bad as he’d thought it would be— a gracious store clerk takes pity on them, and helps with most of the decisions about color and style. Soon enough they’re walking out of the store, Theon’s bag in hand, and towards the food stalls. Jon tugs his sunglasses on out of habit— after what Arya said about Theon and Robb being spotted a bit ago, he doesn’t want to risk being ambushed, especially in such a public place. He’s hoping to ride out this “no one recognizes him anymore” thing for as long as physically possible.

“Well, that was relatively painless,” Theon says, pleased. “Thanks for coming with me, Jon.” 

“Thanks for askin’ me to,” he replies. “You were right. Watching you stress about what color bracelet thing Sansa would like best was definitely a good distraction.” 

Theon laughs. “Happy to be of service.” He pauses, smirking. “While we’re talking about Sansa, she once again reminded me that she wants to meet Ella. She complains about it at least once a day, for the record.” 

Jon rolls his eyes. “Aye, I’m working on it,” he says. “Tell her to stop being so fuckin’ impatient. Dany’s probably going to bring her to Robb’s cookout he was talking about having.” 

“Wow,” Theon says. “Dany’s just going to jump right back into the wolves’ den, huh?” 

Jon gives him a look. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad. If I tell Arya to be civil, she’ll listen.” He pauses, considering. “Probably.” 

Theon makes a face. “I’m not worried about Arya. I’m worried about  _ Robb.”  _

That gives him pause, looking over at the other man. “Really? Robb?” He shakes his head. “I know he’s leery of her being back, and me spending so much time with her. But that’s because it’s me he doesn’t trust.”

Theon shrugs. “I mean, I suppose so. I know he thinks it’s your fault the band broke up. But he thinks it’s  _ her  _ fault that you self-destructed in the first place.” He grimaces, looking at Jon. “Sorry. That was probably— insensitive.” 

“Well, it’s the truth, so I’m not sure I can hold it against you,” Jon mutters. He shakes his head, giving Theon a look. “You think Robb will ever really forgive me for that?” 

Theon exhales. “A few years ago, I didn’t think so,” he says. “And then you almost fucking  _ died,  _ Jon. That tends to put things in perspective.” He shakes his head. “I dunno. Robb’s gotten better about letting go of his anger, I think. He wants to do this again with you. Trusts you enough to get the band back together. That has to mean something, aye?” 

Jon nods. “I suppose so.” He looks at Theon, suddenly curious, even though he knows the answer might hurt him. “What about you?” he asks. “Do you blame me for the band breakin’ up?” 

The other man hesitates, like he’s weighing his words. “I won’t lie, I did at first,” he says. “But gods, Jon, we were so young back then. We didn’t really know what the fuck we were doing, and then before we knew it we were famous beyond belief. We would have crashed and burned eventually anyways, I think. It was so much, so fast.” 

“It was,” Jon agrees quietly. “It felt like overnight the entire world had flipped upside down. And the record label and the Disney execs expected us to act like adults, or their fuckin’ puppets, and we just… we had to adapt so quickly.” 

“Exactly. We were what— nineteen years old? Eighteen? And we didn’t even get to act like it.” Theon looks at Jon, biting his lip. “I used to be fucking mad that you threw it all away because of a broken heart. But now I get it.” He shrugs. “If Sansa left me, I don’t know what the fuck I’d do. I’d probably lose it too.” 

Jon exhales, not realizing how relieved he would feel because of Theon’s words until he’s heard them. While every day with Robb seems like another test, another chance to prove he won’t fuck everything up again, Theon understands, and he doesn’t hold it against him. 

“Give Robb time,” Theon says with a shrug. “You know how he is. He’s always been more sensitive than he’s willing to let on. He’ll come around.” 

“He came and apologized to me for being an arse the other day,” Jon says with a grin, Theon laughing. 

“Good. Marge was grilling him about that when I was over there right after.” He grins, almost bashful. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for anything I said too. All that bullshit about forgetting about Dany, back before she showed up again. That was more— I didn’t know what else to say.” 

“I know,” Jon says. “It’s fine. Gods, I wish now all I had to do was forget about her.” He laughs. “Would make everythin’ a lot simpler, in truth.” 

“I don’t know how you’re doing it, really,” Theon says. Jon grins. 

“A lot of yelling at each other. A lot of writing garbage songs just to get it off my chest.” He shrugs. “A lot of wishing I could still fuckin’ drink.” 

Theon laughs at that too, Jon smiling that he understood the joke. The last thing he needs is for people to start thinking he might be in danger of relapsing. 

He opens his mouth to say something else, but a flutter of movement in his peripheral vision catches his attention— subtly, Jon turns his head, his expression turning steely when he sees what it is. 

Bloody paps. Cameras trained right on them, snapping away. 

“Theon,” he says through gritted teeth. “There’s photographers ahead.” 

The other man sighs, patting his shoulder amiably. “I know. Just smile, and pretend you don’t hate the world for a minute, would you?” 

That makes his heart speed up, realization hitting him. “Wait a minute,” he says, affronted. “You know?” He groans, pushing his sunglasses up. “Theon, did you call me today to set me up on a fucking  _ pap walk?”  _

“Er,” he says, making a face. “Technically, it wasn’t my idea, it was Davos’. He wants to gauge interest, especially after those photos of me and Robb got out. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says with a grimace. “But I knew if I did you wouldn’t come.” 

Jon rolls his eyes, because that’s probably true. But it’s also a reality of the band he’s going to have to face sooner or later— it’s absolutely impossible to stay out of the public eye. 

“Gods, I haven’t missed this part of the job,” Jon laments. “Would it kill them to just leave us alone?” Theon laughs, clapping him on the back. 

“C’mon, you’ll get used to it again,” he says. “Welcome back to Hollywood, Jon.” 

***

The roaring of the crowd is absolutely deafening, drowning out anything else surrounding them, leaving only this massive wave of sound of the thousands and thousands of screaming fans. 

Jon grins, a little giddy at it all. His hand rests on the neck of his guitar, shoulder bumping Robb’s as they all bow once more, waving to the crowd. “Thank you!” Robb says, his smile just as wide before the three of them walk off the stage, taking in the packed arena for one last second.

The largest show they’ve ever done— Jon forgets what they told them the seating capacity was; somewhere around 18,000. When they’d added it onto the end of the tour their team hadn’t been sure it was a good idea, thinking they should stick to smaller venues with their debut, but now, here they are, with every single seat filled. 

The roar of the crowd can still be heard from backstage as the house lights begin to come up, Jon shaking his head in disbelief. “Holy fucking shit,” he says, adrenaline coursing through his veins. “Did that really just happen?” 

“I dunno,” Theon says, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Still sort of feels like a dream.” 

Robb laughs, incredulous. “We just played for nearly  _ twenty thousand people,”  _ he says as he plucks his earpieces out, handing them to the stagehands that have come over to untangle them from mics and battery packs. Jon tries to stay still as they unsnake the wire from his t-shirt, but then his eyes land on  _ her,  _ and all other thought vanishes from his mind. 

He slings off his guitar, handing it to a stagehand as Dany practically tackles him in a hug, the warmth of her body and the smell of her perfume giving him more of a high than any amount of screaming fans can. “That was incredible,” she murmurs into his neck, Jon sinking a hand into her silky hair. “Honestly, I’ve never heard you play so well.” She pulls back from him just a bit, pretty brow furrowing. “Gods, you’re so sweaty.” 

Jon laughs, ducking his head to kiss her and steadfastly ignoring Theon and Robb’s wolf whistles. She grins against his lips, the glint in her eyes when they pull away letting him know  _ exactly  _ what she’s thinking of doing later once his brothers aren’t watching them anymore. 

Jon can still hear the people out in the stadium, even as they all filter out, the backstage area becoming more and more crowded as the crew surrounds them. His mum is over talking to Robb, Davos and a few other people from their managerial team speaking with the stagehands and event coordinations, staff storing away their instruments and mics— it’s utter pandemonium, almost as bad as right before the show. But Jon only has eyes for the girl in his arms. Everything else can wait. 

“You liked it?” he asks her, Dany giving him a look as she tries not to laugh. 

“What kind of question is that?” she says. Her smile grows softer, though, a hand pushing his sweaty curls off his forehead. “You were amazing, Jon. And you played my songs.” 

He chuckles, leaning into her, nose nudging hers. “‘Course we did,” he says. “Apparently  _ When You Look Me in the Eyes  _ has become a crowd favorite.” He still feels a little giddy thinking about it— everyone in the audience with their cell phones lit up like lighters, swaying back and forth to the music— it had felt fucking surreal to hear all those people singing the lyrics he’d written back to him. 

“Boys, we’ve got to move,” Davos calls. “You’ve got the VIP meet and greet in five.” 

“Jon, he meant you,” Theon says, coming up behind them and slinging an arm over his shoulders. “Quit sucking face with your girlfriend so we can go meet our fans.” 

Jon laughs, Dany biting down a giggle as well. “Are you ever  _ not  _ an arsehole, Theon?” Jon asks, though they all know it’s rhetorical. Robb grins too, coming up on Jon’s other side as he rakes his fingers through his hair. 

“You know the answer to that, Jon,” Robb says. “What’d you think, Dany?” 

“You were all brilliant,” she says, taking Jon’s hand as their PAs and staff shuffle them along down the winding hallways of backstage. “Honestly, I was telling Jon. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you play like that. It was like everything was electric. You could feel the energy buzzing in the air.” 

Robb preens at her praise, Theon grinning proudly too. “Alright, I guess we’ll let Jon keep you around,” he says with a shrug, Jon laughing as he shoves Robb’s shoulder. 

“It was like that, though, wasn’t it?” Theon says, all of them climbing onto one of the golf carts parked in a row by the backstage exit. The underground hallway of the arena stretches before them, a tunnel of tan concrete. “It felt fucking incredible. Like the music was alive.” 

“I’m never goin’ to get over the feeling of having thousands of people screaming my name when I step onstage,” Robb says, propping his hands behind his head. He almost elbows Theon in the face in the process, Dany giggling as Jon pulls her in closer to him. 

“Gods, Robb, be careful, would you?” Theon says, a hand coming protectively to his nose. “You almost gave me a black eye.” 

“S’alright, no one ever looks at you anyways,” Robb retorts. “I’m the pretty boy of the band, remember?” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Theon grumbles, Dany laughing. 

“I don’t know, Robb. Did you hear the way everyone was screaming when Jon came onstage? I think your title is in danger,” she teases, arching an eyebrow at him. Robb blinks at her in shock, horribly affronted. 

“Dany!” he says, clutching at his heart like he’s truly wounded. “Don’t say things like that!” 

“Don’t listen to him,” Jon murmurs in her ear, a hand at her waist stroking her soft skin. “Damage his fragile ego all you want.” 

“Maybe if he’s knocked off his pedestal, he’ll take less time to style his hair before a show,” Theon says. Robb shoots him a look, crossing his arms. 

“I’m going to take even  _ longer  _ now, you prat.” 

The golf cart comes to a stop in front of another door, more staff waiting there for them. Their security team climbs off of one of the carts that had come up behind them, his mum and Davos and his assistant off another. 

“Alright,” Davos says, approaching the group of them. “You know the drill. We’ll shuffle the fans through for pictures— you’ll have a minute or so to say hi and take the photo, but not much more. We have to keep the line moving. Best behavior, boys, aye?” 

“‘Course,” Robb says, nudging Theon with his shoulder. “Theon, did you hear?” 

“You wanker,” he whispers, but he’s laughing as he says it. 

“C’mon, let’s go then,” Davos says. “Tormund will be there the whole time, so just signal him if you need him to step in, if any of the fans get out of control. Hopefully it doesn’t come to that, but you can’t be too careful.” 

Dany smirks at him, squeezing his hand. “Crazy fans, hmm?” she says, and he rolls his eyes. “You really are a superstar now, aren’t you? Should I be jealous of all these new girls in love with you?” 

“Never,” Jon assures her, leaning down so their noses brush again. “You know I don’t care about any of them but you.” 

She smiles, rising on tiptoe to kiss him again, but the moment is quickly ruined by the gagging sound Theon is making. “Fucking hells, Jon, you really go around saying cheesy shit like that? How did  _ you  _ end up with the girlfriend, out of all of us?” 

Jon flips off his brothers, Robb clutching at his chest he’s laughing so hard. “I dunno, but she seems to like it,” he says, cheeks heating a little. He’d meant it, after all. Dany smiles sweetly at him, tucking herself closer into his side before turning on his bandmates. 

“You call  _ that  _ cheesy, Theon?” Dany says, arching an eyebrow at him as she smirks. “What’s your excuse for all your lyrics, then?” 

Robb is practically doubled over, tears in his eyes. “Dany, stop,” he begs between gasping laughs. “I’m going to go into cardiac arrest, I swear to the gods.” 

“She’s got a point,” Jon says, grinning at his brothers. “Seeing as  _ I’m  _ the best writer, maybe you should be takin’ a page out of my book.” 

“Debatable,” Robb says, finally straightening up. “Just because you wrote Year 3000—” 

“And most of Hold On—” Jon reminds him. 

“Still. S.O.S was me and Theon,” Robb argues. 

“Aye, but When You Look Me in the Eyes was  _ all  _ me,” Jon says with a grin. 

“Mm, but your original melody was shit,” Theon reminds him. He shoots a knowing look at Jon’s girlfriend. “Wasn’t it, Dany? Tell him how much better it sounds now from when he first played it for you.” 

She grimaces, eyes darting between Jon and Theon. Jon laughs, shooting her a conceding look. 

“S’alright. It did sound like garbage before Theon fixed it,” he admits. Theon high fives Robb in victory, making Dany giggle. 

“Alright, my little crows, time to throw you to the wolves!” they hear behind them, Jon turning and grinning when he sees Tormund. The towering redhead is their head of security, and Jon likes him immensely. He’s about the only bloke from their record label that he doesn’t actually detest. 

“You coming?” Jon asks Dany, and she makes a face at him. 

“And risk the scorn of all those girls who are so certain they’ll marry you? No thanks. I want to live long enough to actually get a lead role in something, you know.” She smiles. “I’ll hang back with your mum and Davos. We’ll watch from the wings. Have fun,” she whispers, rising on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I love you.” 

“Love you too,” he tells her, dropping her hand as Tormund shuffles the three of them towards the door. She gives him one last little wave before they’re through and around the corner, and he can’t see her any longer. 

All alone in the hallway aside from Tormund and his brothers, it hits Jon just how exhausted he is. All he really wants to do right now is go home, take a hot shower, and fall into bed— preferably with Dany next to him, if he can manage to sneak her past his mum. But he knows the fans are the reason they’re even here in the first place, so taking some pictures with some of them is probably the least they can do. 

They’re hit with a wave of sound again as a staff member opens the door for them, the fans lined up for pictures screaming their heads off at the band’s appearance. It’s like an adrenaline shot right to the heart, seeing them all there. There’s a swarm of crew and security guards ushering them over to the backdrop that’s been set up, the band emblem stamped across the sheet hanging directly across from the camera equipment. “Remember,” Tormund says, leaning over to speak quietly to the three of them. “Anyone gives you any trouble, you just signal for me. I’ll be right there.” He nods to the spot next to the camera equipment, where his large, overbearing presence will hopefully dissuade any fans from trying anything. 

“Thanks, Tormund,” Robb says, grinning at the older man. A PA positions them in the middle of the setup, gesturing for the other staff to start shuffling the fans through. 

Jon’s cheeks hurt from smiling, his ears ringing from all the excited screaming— he doesn’t understand how these fans haven’t already rubbed their voices raw. He sort of hates posing for photos, but getting to hug the fans, hear them say how much they love and connect to their music, listen to where they’re from and how far they travelled to see them— that’s like nothing else. Sometimes it still feels like a dream for Jon, like they’re playing pretend and will wake up and come back to reality at any given moment. Hearing their stories, seeing the emotion on their faces as they talk about their music… that’s more rewarding than anything. Knowing that the songs they write impact these people so much, have such an influence on their lives, is mindblowing. 

“Holy shit,” Robb says, shaking his head incredulously as another group of fans are ushered from the photo op area. The line still stretches farther than they can see. “I guess we made it boys, aye?” 

“Yeah,” Theon laughs, slapping Robb’s back. “I guess we did.” 

Jon grins at them, before his eyes flit back past Tormund, to the hall they just came from. Lurking in the shadows he can see Davos and their PAs, his mum, their other security guards, but most importantly— Dany. Her silver hair shining like a beacon, her smile soft as she watches him.

Jon grins back at her, and when she tilts her head, her eyes crinkling at the corners and overflowing with pride, well… that makes him feel just as good as stepping out on stage ever does. 

***

Even with their newly-enacted truce, Jon is surprised when Dany calls him up later that afternoon. 

“I have a proposition,” she says, voice strangely irritated. It sets him on edge, making him wonder what could possibly be wrong. 

“Alright,” Jon says, wary. “What is it?” 

She exhales, and Jon can sense her aggravation even without seeing her, making him bristle, hackles raising. “I’m being forced onto a talk show Thursday night,” she laments, and Jon sighs in relief, almost laughing. So  _ that’s  _ why she sounds pissed off. 

“I’m… sorry?” Jon says, Dany grumbling incoherently. 

“Whatever. It’s fine, I’ll be fine. Anyways,” she says. “I have to be at my stylist’s by four, and then I should be done taping and back before nine. And I was just wondering— would you like to take Ella for the night? I can drop her off on the way there, and pick her up on our way back.” 

Jon blinks, taken aback. Having Ella here  _ alone,  _ without Dany or Rhaella or Missandei hovering over him— he’d started to expect that was never going to happen. 

“If not, my mum can watch her,” Dany hastens to add. “If you’re busy or anything. I just thought you might—”

“No, no, I would love to,” he says. “That sounds… brilliant.” 

Dany sighs. “Alright. Great.” There’s a pause, but when she speaks again, he can just see the little grin on her lips. “She misses Ghost terribly. I swear, once we get our own house and I can’t use the excuse of ‘Barristan doesn’t want pets in his’ any longer, she’s going to wear me down.” 

Jon chuckles. “I’m on her side there, I’m afraid.” 

“Traitor,” Dany says, but it’s a joke, and gods— his chest feels light, heart full to bursting. It’s like old times between them, and he aches for it. Wishes it could always be like that with them. 

“You’re good for the cookout at Robb’s the day after, aye?” he asks. “He says everyone can come down around two. The pool’s still open, so Ella can bring a suit if she wants to swim with Rose and Ben.” 

“Mhm,” Dany confirms. “We’ll be there.” He nods, feeling like the pieces are all finally falling in place. 

It’s not until they hang up that Jon realizes what her coming to Robb’s, having her see all his cousins again, means. 

He has to tell her about the band. 

He pushes it aside, thinking he’ll deal with it later. Or maybe… never. He could probably convince them all to keep their mouths shut. Jon isn’t necessarily against a good old-fashioned bribe, especially if it means he gets to avoid _ that _ particular conversation. 

Ella is beside herself with excitement when Jon sees her the next day and tells her she gets to come over and spend a  _ whole evening  _ at his house with Ghost. She starts rambling about movies they can watch and games they can play and a million other things, Dany trying not to laugh at the overwhelmed look in his eyes. 

He calls Arya when he gets home, trying to sound nonchalant when he asks her how he’s supposed to get this Disney+ thing. She makes fun of him something terrible, but she walks him through it until he has access to every princess movie under the sun on his television. 

“You should check the profile icons,” she says teasingly once he has it set up. “I’m fairly certain you, Robb, and Theon are still in there.” 

“Oh, fucking hells, no,” he says, horrified. But sure enough— there in the  _ Disney Channel Original Movies  _ section is a press photo from Camp Casterly Rock of him when he was barely a day over eighteen, with his mop of curls and serious expression that he used to think made him look older. 

“Those movies aren’t on here, right?” Jon begs, and Arya cackles again. 

“Come on, Jon, of  _ course  _ they are. I watch them at least once a month.” 

“Arya,” Jon says, a little surprised at how aggressive he sounds. “Please tell me you’re fuckin’ with me.” 

“About which part?” she teases. “Because they really are on here. Both of them, I’m pretty sure. You should show them to Ella.” 

“Absolutely not,” Jon says, voice stormy. When all seven hells freeze over, that’s when he’ll subject himself to reliving those days again. 

Dany brings Ella over around three on Thursday, Missandei with her as well. His daughter makes a beeline for Ghost once she’s in the house, hardly stopping to say hello to him. 

“Ella,” Dany reprimands, Missandei silently laughing, but Jon just shakes his head in acceptance. His dog is equally excited to see his daughter, barking with delight as she tackles him in a hug. 

“I won’t actually be on air until after six,” she tells him. “So if you need anything, just call. And even once I’m on the air, Missandei will be around. I think I should be back here around eight thirty, depending on traffic.” She rolls her eyes. “Studio City is always a nightmare to get through.” 

“Aye,” Jon says. “I’ll let you know if we need anythin’, but I think we’ll be fine. Right, Ella?” 

“Right!” comes Ella’s voice, muffled by his dog’s fur. Their daughter momentarily steps away from Ghost, running over to give Dany a hug goodbye. “Good luck, Mumma,” she whispers, Dany smiling sweetly at her. 

“Thank you, sweet,” she says. “Have fun with Daddy and Ghost, alright? But be good.” 

“I will,” she promises, Dany dropping a kiss on her cheek and making her giggle again. She and Missandei wave goodbye one more time before they both disappear back out the door, leaving Jon truly alone with his daughter for the first time. 

“So, Ella,” Jon says. “What d’you want to do?” 

She grins, running over to him so he can scoop her up in his arms, hugging her tightly in greeting, since she’s no longer distracted by Ghost. “Do you think Ghost wants to play fetch again?” she asks, eyes wide and hopeful, and Jon has to chuckle. 

Clearly she’s still a  _ little  _ distracted by his dog. 

They go out and play with Ghost in the backyard until the sun begins to set— fucking daylight savings time, he  _ always  _ forgets— and Ghost is exhausted. They have dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets for dinner at Ella’s request, and Jon is immensely grateful he’d thought to text Margaery and ask what kind of food he needed to pick up in preparation yesterday. 

“Do you want to watch a movie?” he asks her once they’ve cleared their plates and Ghost has been fed as well. “I have all the princess movies now, y’know.” 

Her eyes go wide.  _ “Really?!”  _ she says, bouncing up and down in her seat at the island. Jon laughs, leaning against the counter so they’re nose to nose. 

“Really,” he assures her. “Your pick.” 

Ella curls up next to him on the couch with Ghost’s head right against her little legs, while Jon tries to figure out how to scroll through his new streaming service. “What will it be tonight?” he asks her, Ella’s face scrunching up in concentration. 

“Cinderella,” she finally decides. “She’s my favorite.” 

“Aye, is that so?” Jon asks, typing the name into the search bar. “Why so?” 

“She has the same name as me!” Ella chirps, looking up at him with shiny eyes. “And she has the prettiest dress. And all the animals are her friends and help her when she’s lonely.” 

Jon’s heart pangs, hoping that isn’t something she admires about the princess because she’s lonely herself. He knows how isolating this business can be— even as a teenager growing up in it all, he’d never felt like he could really trust anyone aside from Theon and Robb and Dany. Everyone else’s motives were unknowns— did they really care for them? Did they just want to use them as a stepping stool to their own big break? When you’re stuck doubting everyone’s loyalty to you, it ends up making for a pretty lonely life. 

“There are two,” Jon suddenly realizes, peering at Ella. “Er, which one is it?” 

“I wanna watch the one with the people tonight,” she says with a sigh, snuggling in closer to him. Jon squints at the screen, realizing one of them has actual actors, and the other one is a cartoon. 

“This one?” he says, hovering over the live action one, and Ella nods. So he presses play, tossing the remote to the side and watching the movie. 

Ella wasn’t joking about the dress— it is stunning, covered in what must be a thousand sparkly rhinestones and all sorts of little butterflies. She sighs contently as Cinderella’s carriage pulls up in front of the castle, that wistful little smile on her face making his heart melt. 

“I wish I could go to a castle like that,” she says. Jon ruffles her curls, grinning at her. 

“They have one here,” he says, chuckling at how her eyes widen. Don’t they have Cinderella’s castle in Disneyland? Or is that in the one in Lannisport? It’s been an age since he’s been to either; he can’t fucking remember. “Your mum hasn’t taken you to Disneyland?” 

Ella pouts, and it takes all his willpower not to laugh at how downright adorable she looks. “No,” she says, put off. “She always says it’s too far.” 

Jon shrugs. “Well, it’s not far now. We’ll have to go, aye?” 

Her eyes light up so quickly it almost gives Jon whiplash. “Really?” she says, absolutely beside herself with glee. “Can we really go, Daddy?” 

“Sure, I don’t see why not,” he says. “Er, not right now, of course. But I’ll talk to your mum, and see what we can work out, alright?” He grins, nodding towards the TV. “C’mon, we’re missin’ the movie.” 

By the time it’s over it’s gotten a bit late, Ella’s eyes starting to droop with sleepiness. Ghost leaps off the couch nimbly, stretching out on the rug before padding over to the piano, curling up under the bench. Ella gets up too, following his dog so she can pat his ears again, Ghost’s tail quietly thumping against the ground with every little stroke of her hand. 

Ella stands up after a moment, surveying the instrument in front of her. “Daddy, what’s this?” she asks, climbing up onto the bench on her knees, trying to lift the heavy wooden keylid. 

“It’s a piano,” he says, walking over to her and taking a seat next to her on the bench. He lifts the keylid easily, her eyes raking over the black and white keys that are revealed. 

“Are you sure?” she asks, making him laugh. “I don’t think pianos are this big.” 

“Aye, well, it’s a grand piano,” he says. “It’s a bit bigger than just a normal one.” She scoots so she’s sitting properly, pressing down on one of the keys and smiling at the sound that rings through the living room. 

“Can you play it?” she asks, tilting her head to look at him, and Jon smiles softly at her. 

“I can,” he says. “That’s why I’ve got it here.” 

“Show me, show me!” Ella says, wiggling closer to him. Jon chuckles, resting his fingers on the keys, playing a quick, mindless melody for her. She gasps at the song that resounds from the instrument, all the notes mixing together to form one piece of music filling the house. 

“Wow,” she says, awestruck. “How did you do that?” 

“Well, I’ve had a lot of practice,” he says. “D’you want me to show you?” 

She nods, quivering with excitement again. Jon chuckles, lifting her up and putting her in his lap, leaning over her shoulder so he can guide her hands to where they need to be over the keys. 

“Before you can go playin’ any songs, you need to know what keys make what notes,” he says. “First you have to learn your scales. That’s how I was taught to play, anyways. Then once we know the notes, we can make songs from them.” He drops her hands, fingers moving back to the keys as he plays the first scale for her. “This one’s called C major.” He points to one key almost in the center. “See this one? That’s middle C.” Ella nods, enraptured with his spontaneous music lecture. 

“We learn this one first, because all the notes are in order, and they’re all natural. Er, the white ones,” he says. “You don’t have to worry about any of the black keys. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Ella says. 

“Your thumb starts on middle C,” he tells her, placing his own there. “And that one’s first. And then you move to D with the next finger, then E—” He plays as he explains, Ella watching him. “Now this is the tricky part. Your thumb crosses underneath, to get to the next key. That’s F.” He shows her slowly, glancing to see if she looks confused, but there’s a deadset determination on her face that immediately makes him think of Dany, his heart clenching a bit. 

“Then, your pointer finger moves back to the next key— that one’s G. Then it’s A, then B, and you finish on another C.” 

Ella looks at him, eyebrows raised. “There are  _ two  _ C’s?” 

Jon chuckles. “Aye, love. There are only eight different notes, really, and we just use the same names over and over.” Ella giggles, leaning back into him. 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Ella declares. “They should all get their own names.” 

Jon shugs, not exactly prepared to get into a discussion about octaves and the musical alphabet with his six year old. “D’you want to try?” 

She nods excitedly, letting Jon guide her hand back so her thumb hovers over middle C again. 

“Ready?” he asks, and she nods again. “Okay. C, D, E— now cross your thumb under—” he gently guides her fingers to the next key, so that it’s in the right spot. “F, G, A, B, and C, there you go.” Ella gins widely when she reaches the last key. “Alright, now we go backwards. Same fingers as before, just in reverse, alright?” He plays the notes along with her, showing her how to untwist her fingers and place them on the right keys so that they once again end on middle C. “There you go, you did it!” 

Ella giggles, turning in his lap to beam at him. “I played piano!” she declares, delighted with herself. 

“Aye, you did,” Jon says, ruffling her curls, making her eyes scrunch up with joy. “You want to try it by yourself?” 

Ella nods, turning back to the piano again, fire in her eyes as she stares down the keys like she’s ready to conquer. Once again, Jon is struck by how much she looks like Dany. 

“Here’s middle C,” he reminds her, pointing it out. “Remember, start with your thumb right there.” 

Ella slowly plays the scale out for him, only missing a few notes— her thumb doesn’t make it all the way when she crosses it under, her hand ending up misaligned with the keys. But for a first attempt, Jon is pretty damn impressed. Maybe she inherited some of his musical talent along with his Northern skin and stubbornness. 

“Good job,” Jon tells her when she’s done, kissing the side of her head. “You’ve almost got it, love.” He adjusts her little hands so that her fingers are positioned over the keys correctly. “Try it again.” 

Ella sticks her tongue out just past her bottom lip as she concentrates, but this time she plays the scale nearly perfectly. “That was it,” Jon tells her, smiling at her widely, and she bounces in his lap, giggling with joy. “Look at you go. You’ll be a pro in no time.” 

“Can I learn to play piano like you?” Ella asks him, and how can he possibly say no to her when she looks at him like  _ that?  _ “Will you teach me, Daddy?” 

“‘Course, love,” he assures her. “Y’know, I learned how to play when I was about your age now.” 

“Did your daddy teach you too?!” she asks, wide eyes full of wonder, and Jon tries his best not to let her see how gutted that question leaves him. 

He doesn’t even know what his father looks like, let alone whether or not he can play piano. 

“Ah, not exactly,” he says. “I took lessons, when I was little. My parents didn’t know how to play any instruments.” 

“But now you’re the bestest piano player ever,” she says, and Jon laughs at her declaration, a bit of the awful feeling of having his father mentioned dissipating. Ella yawns as she leans back against his chest, her curls tickling his neck; clearly the adrenaline of learning a new instrument isn’t even enough to overcome her sleepiness. “Daddy, will you play something for me?” 

Jon smiles gently, resting his chin on her head. “Sure I will,” he says. “What do you want to hear? Do you have a favorite song you want me to play?” 

“No. Play something you made up,” she sighs. 

Jon smiles, thinking of the melody that’s been stuck in his head for a few weeks now, the song he sometimes works on when he gets home from spending time with her. He has a smattering of lyrics written, but he hasn’t shown it to Robb and Theon yet. Right now, it’s just for his daughter. 

His fingers stroke the keys before he begins to play for her, humming along a bit to what he imagines would be the melody. Ella sighs contently as she nuzzles closer into him, her eyes drifting closed as he plays. 

He’s so lost in the melody, in the sound of the notes as they pour from the piano, that he doesn’t notice Ghost get up, or hear the click of high heels against his hardwood floor. He presses a kiss to Ella’s head as she dozes in his lap— it is getting late, after all— continuing to play, adding some things here and there. With Ella here with him, the melody is suddenly clearer. 

“I like that one, Daddy,” she murmurs, and Jon smiles as she turns around in his lap, nestling her face into his neck and drifting farther off to sleep as he holds her, the song finished.

“Is that new?” he hears behind him, almost jumping at the sound of Dany’s voice. He looks over his shoulder, careful not to disturb Ella, before standing from the bench with her in his arms. Dany lingers in the doorway, her expression unreadable as she takes him in, Missandei right next to her. “I don’t recognize it.” 

He’s left dumbstruck for a moment, because— well, she looks absolutely gorgeous. Not that she’s not  _ always  _ gorgeous, but in her fitted black dress, sleek heels, with her curls softly cascading over her shoulder and her lips painted the same shade of red as the fabric of her shoes, she looks so different than she has every time he’s seen her in the past weeks. She looks like the movie star he knows she’s become, not the girl he used to be in love with. 

“Aye,” he finally manages to get out, shifting Ella to his hip. Her eyes flutter open momentarily, a sleepy  _ mumma  _ falling from her lips before she’s back asleep. “Just somethin’ I’ve been working on.” 

Dany nods, eyes still locked on him inquisitively. “I didn’t realize you were writing again,” she says. “I thought you stopped after your solo stuff was done.” There’s that unasked question in her gaze, but he doesn’t think she wants to hear the answer to it. 

Jon exhales, steeling himself, because he knows he has to tell her now. While a part of him is tempted to let her find out from the press, just like he found out about Ella, he recognizes that would just spell disaster. 

“I started writing again a few months back,” he says. “And more recently because— well, Robb and Theon and I are gettin’ back together.” 

The air seems to disappear from the room, Missandei’s eyes going wide. Dany, however, remains unmoving, expression unchanged. 

“What?” she finally whispers, one eyebrow raising ever so slightly. “You’re getting back together?” Jon nods, and she shakes her head, like she’s trying to clear a fog from her mind. “The  _ Almost Brothers?”  _

Jon nods, standing his ground. Missandei is looking between the two of them like she’s watching a bomb about to explode. 

“Dei,” Dany says quietly, her voice barely controlled. “Could you please take Ella out to the car?” 

Missandei nods, moving forward to take a sleeping Ella from Jon, holding the little girl on her hip like it’s second nature. She gives Dany one last look as she heads back down the hall for the front door, leaving the two of them alone. 

“When did this happen?” Dany asks, finally breaking the tense silence. Her words are like steel, eyes fiery as she stares him down. She’s ready for a fight, Jon knows. 

“Actually, the day I found out about Ella,” he says, crossing his arms as well. “Right before I came to your house.” 

Her eyes narrow. “And you didn’t think it worth mentioning until now?” she demands. “It’s been weeks, Jon. What the fuck were you thinking?” 

“You’re one to preach about keeping secrets,” he retorts. “Besides, I didn’t think it was important.” 

Dany laughs, but it’s not that warm, rich thing he remembers. “You didn’t think it was  _ important?”  _ she parrots. “Others take me, I—”

She trails off, pacing back and forth in front of him, still seeming to process his words. Jon watches her, the anger inside him building. Why is she making such a big fucking deal out of this? He knew she probably wouldn’t be  _ pleased,  _ simply because them making a comeback means he’ll be much more centered in the public eye than he currently is, and that’s not going to be easy while protecting Ella’s privacy, but she seems to be  _ horribly  _ overreacting to this revelation. 

“Listen, I know it’s going to be hard with the press, but it’s nothin’ I haven’t dealt with before,” he says. “It’ll be fine.” 

“Fine?” she says, incredulous. “Really, Jon? How can you not see this changes practically everything?” 

“How is that?” he demands, voice rising. Whatever truce they may have had is broken now, Dany’s rage incinerating it. “It’s not like you’re off the grid here, you know. You’re all over the bloody rags already. So why does it matter?” Dany’s gaze is sharp as it meets his. “Why do you fucking care so much whether or not I’m makin’ music again?” 

“Because that band is your  _ life,”  _ she says. “And that isn’t bad in and of itself, but seven hells, Jon, you know what it was like before I left! You were being pulled in a thousand directions, and it was draining the life from you. Tours, talk shows, writing albums and flying across the country for performances and gigs  _ day after day—”  _ She shakes her head, crossing her arms again. “It never stops. And I know how much it means to you, and I suppose I’m glad you have music in your life again, but…” Dany exhales. “Clearly you haven’t given a moment of thought to how all that will affect Ella.” 

Jon bristles at the insinuation, mainly because he  _ had  _ thought about it. He knows the band is a huge time commitment, but… well, he’s determined to make it work. “Of course I have,” he snaps. “Robb has children too, you know. It’s not impossible to do both. I’ll make time for her—” 

“No,” Dany retorts, silencing him.  _ “No.  _ You don’t  _ make time for her.  _ That’s not how parenting works. She is  _ always  _ first. And then you make time for everything else.” Her eyes are steely as she stares him down, mouth a razor thin line. “And you would know that if you had even a fucking  _ clue  _ what it meant to be her father.” 

Her words cut him like a knife, shaking him to his core. Jon’s vision goes red, all the anger he’s been trying to choke down since their truce breaking free, the cord snapped. 

“Don’t you fucking dare tell me I don’t know what it means to be her father,” he hisses. “I love that little girl more than anything. I would do anything for her—” 

“Oh, so that’s why you’re making a comeback?” she demands. “For  _ Ella?  _ I’m not stupid, Jon, alright? That’s bullshit and you know it.” 

“It is not!” he retorts, before Dany cuts him off again. 

“It is!” she insists. “If you had any idea what _any_ of this meant, you would realize this is a terrible idea, but you don’t!” she practically yells. “Because you’ve been in her life mere _weeks,_ Jon! You have no understanding of what it means to be her fucking parent!” Her chest heaves as she spits the words at him, eyes wild and cheeks ruddy. Her anger just fuels his own, and he lets it take hold like he hasn’t in years and years— consuming him, clouding his thoughts, seeping into his muscle and blood and bone until it can’t be shut away anymore, grafting itself onto every part of him. 

“Dany—” he snaps, but she cuts him off, continuing. 

“No. This isn’t just swimming in your pool and playing legos! It’s more than you coming over for an afternoon and having fun with her!” She shakes her head, almost trembling with rage. “This is deciding on her school, on her doctors. Taking care of her when she’s sick. Calming her down when she has a temper tantrum. Making sure she finishes her dinner and brushes her teeth at night. There is—  _ so much  _ of this that you cannot even  _ fathom!”  _

“Aye, and whose fault is that?” Jon snaps back. “How many times do I have to tell you I  _ want  _ to be there? I want to do all that? And you won’t let me, because you seem convinced I’m goin’ to turn tail and run at any given moment!” His heart thunders in his chest, thumping against his sternum angrily, like he can feel the bruises inflicted there. “How the fuck am I supposed to be her parent and not her babysitter if  _ you won’t give me the chance?”  _

“How am I supposed to give you a chance when you’re going to go and do something like  _ this?”  _ she screams. He can feel the frustration coming off her in waves, her eyes red. “I have done everything,  _ everything  _ I physically could in the past six years to protect our daughter. And if that means I have to protect her from you too, so be it.” 

“What the fuck are you on about, Dany?” he demands, shaking his head. If she tries to take Ella again— if she disappears into the night once more with his daughter in tow, so help the gods, he’ll raze the earth to the ground to find her. 

“I’m saying that Ella loves you more than anything and I’m  _ glad  _ for that. I’m glad she has you in her life,” Dany says, stunning him silent for just a moment. “But I am not going to stand here and let her heart be  _ broken  _ as this band consumes your life again and she gets pushed to the side.” 

“That’s not going to happen!” he retorts. Dany laughs humorlessly, raking a hand through her hair. Her expression when she faces him again is that of someone arguing with a brick wall. 

“There is no way for you to know that!” she cries. “You can make all the promises you want,  _ say  _ how it’s going to be different this time, but you don’t know that! And you  _ can’t  _ know that!” Dany shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest, and for just a moment, she looks small again. “Just… why, Jon? Gods, why now?” 

He’s had it, now, being yelled at and ridiculed. “You know why I told Robb yes, when he asked? You know  _ why  _ I started writin’ music again? Because of  _ you,”  _ he snaps. “Because it was finally a way for me to deal with all the anger and uncertainty I’ve been pushin’ down ever since you left. Finally a way for me to cope that didn’t involve keepin’ myself numb or almost killing myself.” 

_ That  _ shuts her up, as it should. There’s very few people that will continue arguing with him after he brings up the incident that finally landed him in rehab. Arya is really the only one. Occasionally his mother, too. 

“Jon—” she says, her voice shaky now. But he’s done letting her win, and that dark, twisted part of himself that’s been growing and growing since the fated day she left him has control now. 

“I said yes because they’re my  _ brothers,  _ and I know that no matter what, they’d never up and leave me without even sayin’ goodbye,” he spits. “And if you’re going to resent me for wanting people in my life that actually care about me, then I don’t know what to say to you.” 

“That is not what I meant, and you  _ know  _ it,” she says, voice stormy. 

“Do I?” he snaps back. “I’m an adult, Dany, and I get to make my own choices. You stopped gettin’ a say in what I do with my life the moment you walked out of it.” 

“Fine,” she says, and when her eyes meet his, they’re like ice, piercing right through him. “But if you’re not willing to consider how your daughter plays into all of this, then you don’t get a say in what I choose to do to protect her.” 

“You can’t take her from me,” he says, his voice almost a growl. “I have a right to her, whether you like it or not.” Dany laughs, spreading her arms in invitation.

“Then fucking take me to court, Jon,” she says, walking backwards down his hallway. “We’ll see how  _ that  _ goes.” 

“Dany—” he shouts, but she’s turned around, slamming his front door behind her as she leaves him alone in the crushing silence. 

_ “Fuck,”  _ he spits, raking his hands through his hair. The anger that had had him so tightly in its grip earlier is gone, turned into a crashing wave of freezing cold fear. If she really does take Ella— if she disappears again, but this time with his daughter— Gods, why did he even  _ say  _ that? Why did he push her so hard? 

Ghost comes padding up to him, whining as he noses at Jon’s leg. He kneels down on the floor, burying his face in his dog’s snowy fur, forcing himself to inhale and exhale at a steady rate to calm his racing heart. 

Having a panic attack right now will  _ not  _ help anything. 

Ghost nuzzles closer into him, licking at his cheek tentatively, as if he can sense how distraught he is. Fucking hells, why does he always let his anger get the best of him? Why does he let his emotions take control and send him spiraling? This is  _ exactly  _ how he ended up in rehab the first time, because it was all too much to handle— at least drinking erased everything he couldn’t block out, numbing him until he forgot what it was like to feel so much. 

For a second, he considers it. The call of oblivion is so tempting. But he squeezes his eyes closed, forcing away the thought. 

_ No.  _ That’s not him anymore. He won’t become that person again. Not… not with the band. Not with Ella. 

He exhales again, heart rate slowing a bit. Dany’s not going to take his daughter away— not if he proves he can do this. Can be the father she deserves, the father he  _ should  _ be, and balance the band. It’s not a one-or-the-other thing here; he needs them both. And so he’ll work his arse off to make that happen without sacrificing either of them. 

It has to be  _ doable,  _ he reasons. A million different celebrities have kids. This isn’t some novel concept. And Jon knows how to work hard, how to fight for what he wants. If he wants to be a part of this band again  _ and  _ a true parent to Ella, he will find a way. He used to pull all-nighters to drive across the state for shows, finishing schoolwork in the backseat of his mum’s car between gigs. He hustled and worked and fought for the attention they needed to make it. He spent years flying across the country for shows and interviews, filming music videos and movies, scribbling lyrics down on scrap paper in between red carpets and press meetings and album releases. 

Being there for his daughter should be easy in comparison. 

“Thanks, Ghost,” Jon mumbles into his dog’s fur, Ghost chuffing at him again as he stands back up. It’s barely even late at night, but suddenly he’s bone tired, completely drained. “Let’s go to bed, boy.” 

Ghost curls up next to him in bed in his customary spot, but despite his exhaustion, Jon tosses and turns. His phone lights up with a notification, telling him it’s past 11:30, and he groans, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s been hours now that sleep has evaded him. 

Mindlessly, he flicks on the television, hoping the background noise will help lull him to sleep. But then he sees what’s on, and immediately he’s more awake than ever. 

Because there’s Dany gracing his screen, in the same dress she’d been in earlier, smiling as she sits across from Renly Baratheon. 

_ Fuck,  _ he’d forgotten he’d left it on this channel the other day. But it’s too late now, he knows, heart sinking as he sits up. Ghost raises his head— the bugger had  _ immediately  _ fallen asleep hours ago, of course— before letting out a soft sigh and settling down again. 

“Daenerys, it’s such a treat to have you here,” Renly says, and her answering smile is so wide and bright that it hurts. He remembers when she used to look at him like that— like he was the sun, everything she ever needed in the world. 

They exchange light platitudes, bantering about the ending of her show almost a year ago, how she’s coping now that she’s no longer the Dragon Queen. “It’s been hard, leaving it all behind,” she says. “But knowing she inspired so many, and that she meant so much to so many people— it helps her live on, I think. And I’m tremendously proud of the ending she had. I really think it was the best I could have hoped for.” 

Jon strokes Ghost’s ears absentmindedly, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen. He’d seen her show, of course— every single season of it. At first he’d started watching it to torture himself, and then because he thougth it would give him  _ closure  _ or some bullshit, but by the end he knew— even if he hated the choice she’d made, even if there was an aching hole in his chest for the rest of time from where she’d snatched out a chunk of his heart when she’d left, this was what she was meant to do. He watched her on that fucking show, in awe of her and her talent and the way she  _ moved  _ people, and he wondered if maybe it did make sense, her leaving him for this. 

It was the role she’d always dreamed of, that she’d told him about that very first night they’d met. And she’d done it, created a character and a world that  _ stuck  _ with people even after it was all over. Just like he knew she would. 

“So,” Renly says on screen, and Jon’s pulled from his musings at the change of tone in the host’s voice. “You know I’ve been dying to ask you since we started.” 

“Mm,” Dany hums, a teasing grin on her scarlet lips. “Well, go on then.” 

“A few weeks ago we learned you have a daughter,” Renly says, and Dany smiles easily. It’s such a stark contrast from the way he’d heard her talking about it at her house last week, her relaxed nature masking the regret and annoyance and  _ fear  _ that he knows must be coursing through her right now. 

“I do,” Dany says, Renly looking like he’s barely restraining himself. “She is the absolute light of my life.” 

The audience coos, Renly smiling at her sweetly. “That’s wonderful,” he says. “But tell me, Dany— why are we just finding out about her now?” 

The camera cuts to Dany’s face, and she looks pensive almost, as she considers. “You know, I grew up in this business,” she says. “I started acting so young. I knew this was what I wanted to do, and so I worked hard at it for most of my life.” She pauses, shrugging. “But in that, you lose a lot of normalcy. I’m beyond grateful for my career, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. But that was a choice I made.” She looks back at Renly, lips pursed. “I didn’t feel that was a decision I could make for my daughter. I’ve tried to keep her out of the media, out of the spotlight, so that someday when she’s older she can make that decision for herself.” Dany smiles. “And hopefully, until then, she can enjoy as normal of a childhood as I can give her.” 

The audience claps again, Dany smiling graciously at them all. It was a scripted answer, Jon knows— he used to watch her and Missandei come up with this shit before press conferences or interviews— but the audience eats it up, and he knows why. It’s because she’s bloody brilliant, sincere and convincing and captivating. 

Renly asks her a few more things, Dany answering all of his questions gamely. She never breathes a word about him or any other alleged father— she never even mentions Ella’s name— but still he can see how the audience and Renly hang onto her every word. It’s not long before he’s bidding her goodbye, the audience cheering as she waves to them all. Jon watches a few minutes of the next guest, but without Dany there, the screen seems duller, the jokes flatter, the colors less vibrant. He turns off the TV, turning towards Ghost, and closes his eyes again. 

This time, sleep finally comes to him. 

***

Jon wakes up feeling like absolute shit. 

He groans as he sits up in bed, head already pounding, his stomach feeling like it’s full of lead. Gods, it feels like back when he used to wake up still half-drunk and hungover, eyes screwing shut against the morning sunlight. 

Dany’s parting words hang over his head like a fucking death sentence. He can’t tell if she really meant it, or if it was just an empty threat in the heat of the argument, but the possibility of her taking Ella and running again is enough to give him another panic attack. 

He should probably call and apologize to her, but he’s not exactly sure  _ what  _ he would be apologizing for. Wanting a bit of his old life back? Making music again? Her reaction was  _ vastly  _ disproportionate to what he imagined it would be. Jon knew she wasn’t exactly going to be pleased when she found out, but he never expected her to be so opposed to the idea. 

It makes him wonder, memories drifting back to a past that he only half remembers. She wasn’t that unhappy with the band the whole time they were together, was she? Was there a resentment there for it being such a big part of his life that he was blind to? 

He had always considered Dany his biggest fan after Theon and Robb— she was wonderful, and supportive, and always so happy for them and their success. She knew how much it meant to him, how much  _ music  _ meant to him. It couldn’t have been all an act, could it have? 

He shakes his head, adding it to the unending list of questions he’s not sure he’ll ever get her to answer. 

He doesn’t feel any better by the time two o’clock finally rolls around. Stomach still in knots, he loads Ghost in the car and sets off for Robb’s. 

Sansa, Theon, and Arya are already there when he arrives, their cars parked in the front drive and their voices coming from the back. Jon lets himself through the house, Ghost taking off like a bullet for Nymeria once they finally reach the backyard. 

“Hey!” Robb says in greeting, leaning over to pet Ghost as he detours by the group of people before chasing Nymeria in circles around the lawn. Theon grins at him too, but his brow furrows as Jon walks over to join the group. 

“Er, you alright, mate?” he asks, clapping Jon on the shoulder. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like shit.” 

Jon rolls his eyes. “How could I possibly take that the wrong way?” 

Sansa frowns at him, eyes full of concern. “Where’s Ella? And Dany?” she asks. Jon huffs, shaking his head. 

“I dunno. I dunno if she’s coming anymore.” He runs a hand through his hair, eyes squeezing closed as it all flashes before them again. “We, ah— we got in a pretty big fight last night.” 

Now it’s Arya’s turn to cross her arms, frowning. “What about?” she says. “I thought you two called a truce.” 

“She found out about the band,” Jon says, shoulders sagging. “And proceeded to scream at me about it.” 

“Well, now you know how she feels,” Sansa murmurs. Jon glares at her, the knots in his stomach tightening. 

“Really, Sansa?” Arya asks, rolling her eyes. His cousin immediately looks guilty, grimacing. 

“Sorry. I know it’s different,” she says. 

“I don’t know why it’s such a big fuckin’ deal,” Jon mutters. “Aye, the attention from the media will make things a bit harder, but we’re used to that. And it’s not as if Dany’s invisible by herself.” 

“Who cares if she disapproves?” Robb says. “It’s your life, Jon. She doesn’t get a say in what you do with it.” 

“I  _ don’t _ care if she disapproves,” Jon says, jaw clenching. “I care if she takes my daughter away from me again.” 

“She wouldn’t, Jon,” Sansa says, and she’s trying to be comforting, but it just pisses him off even more. “She wouldn’t do that.” 

“Why not?” he retorts. “She already hid her from me for six years, and I didn’t even  _ do  _ anythin’ to her that time.” 

It looks like Sansa’s going to keep talking, so Jon breathes a sigh of relief when the sliding door opens, revealing Maragery with Ben on one hip and a platter of watermelon in her other hand, Gendry behind her carrying a cooler. Rose races out in front of them, beside herself with excitement at the appearance of two dogs in her backyard. 

“Thanks, Gendry,” Maragery says, putting the plate down and depositing Ben on the ground as well. “Rose,  _ gentle  _ with the doggies, yeah?” She turns towards the rest of them, smiling brightly at Jon. “Hey, you made it!” 

Jon tries to smile back as Margaery hugs him in greeting, but he still feels sick to his fucking stomach. Maybe he  _ should  _ call Dany and apologize, even if he isn’t particularly sorry for anything. Maybe then her words will stop haunting him. 

He’s a good dad. Isn’t he? Sure, he doesn’t have the most experience, and this whole thing is still new, but he’s trying. That’s what everyone keeps telling him matters most. And he  _ wants  _ to be there for Ella, not just for all the fun stuff, but for the hard stuff too. He wants to have a say in her life, help Dany make decisions, everything. He just… doesn’t know how to do that, if she won’t meet him halfway. 

“Did Dany bail?” Margaery says quietly, her brow pinched, eyes full of sympathy. Jon exhales, gaze casting down. 

“I dunno. Maybe.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I know you all wanted to meet Ella.” 

Margaery frowns, patting his arm. “Hey, don’t apologize. It’s fine. You can’t control everything, Jon.” 

_ Isn’t that the truth, _ he thinks bitterly.

Margaery seems to sense that he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, because she turns back towards the group, asking Sansa about wedding plans, his cousin’s face lighting up at just the thought. Jon tunes them out as they ramble on about dresses and venues and a million other things he doesn’t care about. 

He’ll probably actually be invited to this wedding, he realizes absentmindedly. He didn’t even go to Robb and Margaery’s. 

“Uncle Jon!” he hears someone whisper, coming to attention as he realizes Rose is right in front of him, Ghost next to her. Everyone else is still talking, Rose’s expression as she looks at him suggesting that whatever she has to say is of the utmost importance. He smiles at her, though gods, how his heart aches for Ella. 

“Hi, Rose,” he responds, leaning down so it’s easier to hear her. “What is it?” 

“I think Ghost is thirsty,” she says, her big blue eyes wide with concern. “His tongue is hanging out.” 

“Mm, he’s probably worn himself out from all that running he was doing,” Jon says, smiling at her a bit. “I’ll get him some water. Thanks for lettin’ me know, sweetheart.” 

She beams at him before darting over to her mother’s chair, climbing up into Margaery’s lap. Jon’s throat feels tight again at the sight, that longing and nagging panic rising inside him again. Ghost comes closer, rubbing his head against Jon’s legs, as if to soothe him. 

“You thirsty?” he says, stroking his ears. “C’mon, let’s go get you some water.” 

The silence of the house is a comforting reprieve from everyone, Jon rummaging through the cabinets to find a bowl for Ghost to use. He fills it with water from the tap and sets it on the floor for his dog, bracing his hands against the counter as Ghost drinks. 

A cursory glance at the clock tells him it’s past two forty five. He sighs, scrubbing at his face with his hand. Dany should have been here by now, which means she’s probably not coming at all. Dread claws at his insides, a sense of foreboding weighing down his heart. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, about ready to call her and beg for her forgiveness. For what, he’s still really not sure, but he’ll say whatever she needs to hear to assure she doesn’t take Ella from him. 

“Ghost, what have I done?” he mutters, his dog looking up at him briefly, head tilting in confusion. He’s still utterly baffled by Dany’s reaction to his news, and the confusion on top of the hurt and the fear— it’s enough to make his head swim. He wonders if he’d be missed if he just went home now, hid alone in his house with his dog. Probably not. At least then he could wallow in misery without an audience. 

But then he hears it. Little feet falling on the hardwood. It must be Rose, he knows, come to check up on Ghost again. His heart aches, wishing desperately that it was Ella instead. 

“Daddy?” he hears, and he whips around, heart suddenly racing. 

And there she is, peering around the corner, her smile wide when she sees him. Jon laughs with relief, falling to his knees so that she can run right into his arms, his arms wrapping around her so tightly when she reaches him that he almost lifts her off the ground. Ghost barks with joy, running circles around the two of them, but Jon doesn’t want to share his daughter with his dog right now, no matter how attached they’ve grown to each other. He buries his nose in her soft curls, breathing in the scent of her, feeling whole again. Nothing else matters now that she’s here with him. 

“Hey, love,” he says, returning her grin with one of his own. “I missed you.” 

She giggles, poking his nose. “You saw me last night, silly,” she tells him, but Jon doesn’t care. There are fucking  _ tears  _ pricking behind his eyes right now, the relief he feels so sudden and overwhelming that he thinks he could float away. 

“Aye, but I still missed you,” he tells her, kissing her cheek. “I wasn’t sure you were comin’.” 

“We got lost!” Ella tells him, eyes wide. “We drove around for  _ so long.  _ I thought we’d never make it.” 

“Sorry,” he hears, and Jon looks up, meeting Dany’s eyes. He hadn’t even noticed her standing in the doorway, Missandei by her side. Ghost, finally realizing Jon won’t let him get any attention from Ella at the moment, wanders over to the two of them, Missandei grinning as she pets his silky ears. “It’s been forever since I had to come over to this side of the city. I got all turned around.” 

“It’s fine,” Jon says, shaking his head. He can see that Dany’s looking at him in that guarded, shut-off way again, but he doesn’t really give a fuck. He’ll deal with that later. For now— he’s got Ella here, and that’s what he cares about. 

“Mumma says lots of people want to meet me,” Ella says, making a face at him, and Jon can’t help it, he bursts out laughing. 

“They do,” he says. “All of my family wants to get to know you. I’ll stay with you the whole time, though, alright? You just tell me if you get sick of meetin’ people, and you can go play with Ghost and Nymeria instead.” 

That makes her face light up. “Who’s Nymeria?” she says, only botching the mouthful of a name a little bit. “Is there another doggy here?” 

“Aye, my cousin’s dog. She and Ghost are like siblings, almost,” Jon tells her. “Ghost heard you would be here, and insisted on introducing you to his friends as well.” 

Ella locks her hands around his neck, so Jon stands up, shifting her so he’s holding her on one hip. Dany watches the two of them silently, a look in her eyes that Jon can’t quite pin down. Missandei leans into her, whispering something Jon doesn’t quite make out, but sounds suspiciously like  _ “You okay?”  _

Dany nods, glancing briefly at her friend. “Lead the way, Jon,” Dany says, voice clipped, and he nods, looking down at Ella in his arms one more time, overcome with sheer comfort and relief at holding her close. 

Ghost bolts ahead of them back to the sliding door, Jon opening it and letting the dog run out ahead of them. He’s fucking  _ beaming  _ as he steps back onto the patio with Ella in his arms, and he can almost hear a collective intake of breath from all his family at the sight of them. Theon’s giving him a teasing little grin— probably because he’s smiling like a loon— but he couldn’t care in the slightest. 

“You ready, love?” he whispers to Ella, and she nods, though he notices how her hands tighten around his neck. He can’t imagine that she’s very used to meeting new people, thinking back to how shy she’d been with him initially. Gods, was that only a few weeks ago? It feels like a different lifetime now. 

Sansa’s the first to unfreeze from her stupor, an equally wide grin on her face as she almost skips over to them. Ella ducks her head into Jon’s neck, peering at his cousin tentatively. “Ella,” Jon says, giving Sansa a look to warn her from coming on  _ too  _ strong, “this is your Aunt Sansa.” 

“Hi, Ella,” Sansa says, leaning down so she’s on eye level with her. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.” 

“Hi,” Ella says, her little hand still bunched tightly in Jon’s shirt. She smiles, wiggling in Jon’s arms a bit. “Your hair looks like Ariel.” 

Sansa smiles widely, and it makes Ella giggle. “Y’know, she’s my  _ favorite  _ princess,” Sansa says. “I’ve always wished I could be a mermaid like her.” Jon grins as the two of them babble on about fairy tales and mermaids and such— has he seen the movie with Ariel? He can’t bloody remember— but the way Ella begins to come out of her shell warms his heart. He doesn’t want this to be too overwhelming for her, meeting all these new people. The fact that she’s starting to look more comfortable puts him at ease. 

Finally Sansa and Ella take a pause, his cousin standing back up to survey Dany over Jon’s shoulder. He can see the confliction in her eyes, like she’s waging a mental war, before one side wins out and her face softens into a smile. 

“Hi, Dany,” Sansa says, moving towards the other woman, and Jon swears he sees Dany’s shoulders sag with relief as Sansa pulls her into a hug. 

“It’s so good to see you,” he hears his cousin murmur, words half muffled by Dany’s curtain of silver hair. She pulls away a moment later, hugging Missandei as well. Jon watches the three of them for a moment, Dany’s amethyst eyes a little glassy, her smile more genuine than he’s seen since she came back. 

“Daddy, how do you know so many people?” Ella asks, peering at the group ahead of them, and Jon chuckles, walking back towards the other crowd and leaving Sansa and Dany to catch up. 

“Well, these are all my cousins,” Jon explains. “My mum’s brother had a lot of kids, and we all grew up together in one big house. And then a lot of them went and got married too, or are going to get married, so now there are even  _ more  _ people.” 

“Wow,” Ella says, clutching onto his t-shirt again as Jon finally stops in front of the group. 

“It’s okay,” Jon whispers to her conspiratorially. “You don’t have to remember all their names, I promise.” 

That makes Ella giggle, a little bit of the uncertainty in her eyes fading, so he takes it as a win. 

Everyone, thankfully, is  _ so  _ kind and patient with Ella— not that he’d really expected otherwise, but it’s a relief all the same. He brings her around and introduces her to everyone, and by the end she’s giggling and smiling, no longer hiding in Jon’s shoulder. Dany wanders over with Missandei and Sansa too, surveying the group of people before her. Jon can tell she’s hesitating, but there’s that glint in her eyes— steely determination, almost fearlessness. He doesn’t know how she’s so strong— in her position, Jon would want nothing to do with any of these people. He doesn’t miss the way Robb and Arya bristle at her appearance, his cousin’s eyes alight with warning as she stares down Dany. 

_ Be nice,  _ Jon mouths at Arya, and she makes a face in return, but tones down the glaring. 

Food is brought out not long after, heaps of grilled chicken and steak tips and hamburgers for the kids as well. Jon piles a plate for himself as well as one for Ella, who bounces in between him and Dany as they move down the buffet. “Ella, you're not going to like that,” Dany says as she reaches for one of the dry-rub chicken wings Robb had just put on the table. Ella pouts, claiming she  _ will, Mumma,  _ but Jon meets Dany’s eyes over her head, grabbing a piece of plain grilled chicken for their daughter instead at her silent instruction. 

_ And a roll,  _ Dany mouths, Jon picking one from the bread basket, Dany smiling just a bit, grateful. It’s the most emotion he’s seen her exhibit in his direction since she arrived. 

Missandei saved the three of them seats at one of the patio tables, the other woman deep in conversation with Margaery already as they take their chairs. Jon helps push Ella in, putting her plate before her. She’s been attached to his hip since he first picked her up and brought her around to meet everyone, but in all honesty, he’s not complaining. 

“Daddy,” Ella says, peering up at him with her big doe eyes. Sometimes it still startles him, to see his own eyes staring back at him in such perfect clarity. 

“Mm?” Jon hums, swallowing his bite of steak. She’s waiting expectantly for  _ something,  _ clearly, but Jon can’t figure out for the life of him what it is. Dany clears her throat, giving him a look. 

“She needs her chicken cut up,” she whispers. Understanding dawns on him, and he nods, feeling a little foolish that he didn’t realize. It’s not like she has a sharp knife to cut it with, after all. 

“Oh,” he says, pulling her plate closer, making quick work of her chicken. “Here, love.” Ella grins widely when he’s finished, skewering a piece with her fork and chewing it. 

“So, Ella,” Margaery says, balancing Ben on her lap as he eats little pieces of hot dog, her smile wide and friendly. “How are you liking King’s Landing so far?” 

Ella’s little face screws up, Jon trying not to laugh at how damn adorable she looks, like she’s really putting a lot of thought into it. “It’s nice,” she finally concludes. “I miss our old house. It had a pool on the roof!” 

“Wow! On the  _ roof?”  _ Margaery gasps, eyes wide with shock, and it makes his daughter laugh. “That must have been really amazing.” 

“It was the best,” Ella sighs wistfully. “But Daddy has a really fun pool too. And Ghost!” 

“It’s a wonder I ever get her to leave Jon’s,” Dany says quietly, shaking her head, and Margaery laughs. 

“What about you, Dany?” Margaery asks. “Is it good to be back?” 

Dany pauses, fork hovering over her plate, as if she’s a little taken aback that Margaery’s voluntarily talking to her. “It’s… nice,” Dany finally says, considering. “Some things about King’s Landing I missed dreadfully. It’s still strange, being back here after so long.” She shrugs, a bit of a smile playing at her lips. “Some things I don’t miss at all. Traffic in Pentos is nowhere near as horrid.” 

Margaery laughs. “I don’t think traffic  _ anywhere  _ could be as bad as it is here.” 

They keep chatting, Missandei joining in as well, Jon’s attention flitting back to Ella. She’s trying to smear butter on her roll, tongue sticking out in concentration. 

“Hey, let me help you, love,” Jon says, Ella readily handing over the bread. He manages to get it spread pretty evenly before giving it back, tucking one of her curls behind her ear so it won’t get in her way. 

When he looks up, Missandei and Margaery are still talking, but Dany’s watching him, her expression indecipherable. 

“This is delicious, Margaery,” Missandei says. “Thank you again for having us.” 

Margaery waves her off with one hand, wiping ketchup off Ben’s face with the other. “Oh, please, you’re welcome any time,” she says, and Jon can tell from the way she says it she  _ means  _ it. “As is Ella, of course.” 

“Hey,” Robb says, appearing behind Margaery. “Rose wants to go swimming before it starts gettin’ dark. Do you remember where she put her floaties?” Margaery shrugs, setting a wiggling Ben down on the ground now that his food is gone. 

“No idea. See if she left them in the treehouse like she did last time.” Margaery turns to Ella, her smile growing. “What about you, Ella?” she asks her. “Want to see how our pool compares to your dad’s?” 

Ella bounces in her seat, overcome with excitement. “Mumma, can I?” 

Dany smiles. “Sure, love. Let’s go put on your suit, yeah?” 

“I’ll come too,” Missandei says, standing as well. “Robb, Margaery, where’s your bathroom?” 

“Second door on the left off the kitchen,” Robb says. “Daenerys, there’s a spare bedroom right next door where Ella can change, too.” 

“Thanks,” Dany says, nodding in acknowledgement as she pulls Ella’s seat back. Jon doesn’t miss the way his cousin surveys Dany, though, nor his clipped tone as he speaks, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Something growls inside his gut— a fierce protectiveness wanting to shield Dany from Robb’s coldness. Which…  _ that  _ doesn’t make any sense. After what she said last night, he’s furious with her. Why should he care if Robb hates her as well? 

The moment they’re gone, Margaery turns a stern eye on her husband. “Would it kill you to be kind?” she asks, Robb immediately looking guilty. 

“Sorry,” he says, a bit sheepish, a bit indignant. “I wasn’t aware we were just welcoming her back with open arms after she hid Jon’s daughter from him for six years.” 

Margaery rolls her eyes. “Last I checked, you’re not Jon. He’s the one you’re so outraged for, and  _ he’s  _ been perfectly civil.” Robb makes a face at her, but there’s a softness to his eyes even as he looks so defensive. “She’s a part of this family because of Ella now, and the only thing being rude to her is doing is making it  _ more  _ difficult for Jon to be around her.” 

Robb concedes, eyes flitting to Jon. “Aye. Sorry. I’ll be nice.” 

Jon shrugs, trying to play it off as if it’s nothing. He supposes it’s sweet, that Robb is so adamantly on his side here, but… something about it feels wrong, prickling at his spine in an uncomfortable way. Like  _ he  _ can be mad at Dany, but he doesn’t want anyone else to be rude to her, or ignore her, or make her feel unwelcome. 

_ That  _ feeling doesn’t really make any bloody sense, so he squeezes his eyes closed and tries to shove the thought from his mind. 

Robb does eventually track down Rose’s water wings, both her and Ella having a blast jumping in and out of the pool on repeat, Ben much more content to curl up in his mum’s lap back on the patio, where Margaery has turned on the gas firepit. Sitting with all his cousins and talking seems a bit exhausting, though, so Jon volunteers to watch the girls while they swim, Ghost coming to lay by his side as he sits at the end of the shallow end and dangles his feet into the heated water. 

Ella grins at him before she and Rose do cannonballs in sync, the splash truly impressive. 

“Hey,” he hears, turning around to find Theon standing there, Robb right behind him. “Can we sit?” 

Jon shrugs. “Sure. Ghost, move down, would you?” His bandmates plop down on either side of him, Theon cuffing his jeans so he can stick his feet in the water as well. 

“What happened?” Jon says, looking at Robb. “You get banished to lifeguard duty?” Robb laughs, nudging him with his shoulder. 

“No,” he says. “Just couldn’t take you looking so broody over here. Theon wanted to cheer you up.” 

“Oh, seven hells,” Jon says, rolling his eyes. “I’m fine. Don’t go worryin’ about me.” 

“Right, you’re just naturally broody,” Theon says. “Anyways. Remember the other day, when we went out shopping?” 

“Mm,” Jon hums. “You mean when you tricked me into goin’ on a pap walk?” 

Robb laughs, Theon grimacing. “I wouldn’t say  _ tricked,  _ exactly,” he says. “More like withheld certain information.” He grins at Jon easily, and damn him, it’s so hard to stay mad when they’re like this, joking like old times and making him feel  _ wanted.  _

“Sure, Theon,” Jon says, grinning as well. “Whatever you say.” 

Robb starts. “Well, I know you don’t use social media—”

“Aye, because it’s the fuckin’ worst—” 

_ “But,  _ as you can imagine, the internet has lost its shit at the appearance of  _ you  _ for the first time in years.” Jon rolls his eyes, leaning back on his palms. 

“What will the rags say about me now, since their theories of me livin’ beyond the wall are squandered?” 

“Well, half of twitter can’t stop talkin’ about how attractive you’ve become in your solitude, but I don’t know if I agree with them on that,” Theon says, Robb laughing. “But anyways— it’s exactly the reaction Davos was looking for, even if you look pissed in most of the photos. He’s got a couple labels that are serious about signing us. He wants us to come in and meet with them, play some music for them too.” 

“A couple?” Jon says, Robb nodding. “That’s good. That means we can afford to be picky.” He shakes his head. “I’m not goin’ through any of that bullshit we did with Disney again when we were under their thumb.” 

“Agreed,” Robb says. “If we’re doin’ this, it’s on our terms. And we’re going to be ourselves. Not whatever some record label or media conglomerate wants us to be.” 

Personally, Jon would settle for just not being jerked around like a puppet on strings, but he likes Robb’s sentiment. It’s comforting to know they’re all on the same page about it. He’s not sure how  _ realistic  _ that is, exactly— it is a business, after all, but knowing they have more say than they did last time already puts him at ease. 

“I’ve had a couple ideas for a few songs, too,” Robb says. “We should try to get together more regularly and work on them. Theon, didn’t you say you had a few melodies you’d been playing with?” 

“Aye,” he says, kicking at the water. “Should we start having band practices again? Robb, you’ve got a garage, don’t you?” 

Jon laughs. “We don’t need a garage, just a coffee table for him to jump on.” 

Robb shrugs like he’s seriously considering it as Theon cackles, tilting his head back. Even after the laughter dies out, they sit in comfortable silence, shoulder to shoulder as they watch the girls swim. 

“Gods, how do they keep going like this for so long?” Theon finally asks, nodding to the girls, who are scrambling out of the pool again to do another set of jumps. “Did we have that much energy when we were younger?” 

Robb answers, but Jon isn’t listening— his attention is focused on the prickling sensation at the back of his neck, like someone’s watching him. He twists his head around, surveying the group of people, his heart thudding when he realizes it’s Dany who’s looking right at him, a strange expression on her face. 

She glances away almost the instant she realizes she’s been caught, but Jon’s heartbeat doesn’t slow. 

“Daddy!” he hears, and that pulls Jon out of his stupor. He turns to see Ella racing towards him, her little feet slapping against the pavement as she shivers and hugs herself. “I’m cold.” 

“Hey, it’s alright,” Jon says, smiling at her easily. “I’ve got a towel, love. You want to dry off?” She nods eagerly, Jon reaching for the towel behind him, unfolding it to drape it over her little shoulders, bundling her up. 

“So what d’you think, Ella?” Robb asks her. His eyes shine as he looks at Jon’s daughter, smile soft and kind. “Is my pool as cool as your dad’s?” 

Jon chuckles, shaking his head. “You don’t have to answer that, sweetheart,” he tells her, Ella making a face at Robb that really answers the question anyways. “Uncle Robb knows his pool isn’t as nearly as great as mine.” 

“Well, we can’t all have infinity pools overlooking the Hollywood Hills, can we?” Robb laments, making Theon laugh again. “Rose, hon, you want to get out too?” 

“C’mon, Ella, let’s get you back into dry clothes,” Jon says, standing up and resting a hand on her shoulder. The towel wrapped around her is so large that only her head and her feet are visible, the rest of her hidden under fluffy terry cloth. “Once the sun goes down it’ll start to get colder.” 

She’s not very good at shuffling along in her oversized towel burrito, peering up at Jon helplessly, so he scoops her up into his arms, kissing her cheek and making her smile once again. Dany is over talking to Sansa and Arya— gods, he sends up a quick prayer that Arya isn’t being  _ too  _ unkind— so he heads her way, still holding Ella tight. 

“Hey,” he says, Dany turning to face him. “Ella’s done swimming. Are her clothes still in the spare bedroom?” 

“Yes,” Dany says, looking from him to their daughter, holding out her arms. “Here, I’ll go get her dressed.” 

“No, it’s alright,” Jon insists, Dany’s words from last night flashing through his mind again. He’s determined to show her that he  _ is  _ a good father, that he’s willing to do more than just the fun stuff. He wants to be here for her in every capacity. “I can get her changed.” 

Dany looks skeptical, but she doesn’t say a word, that mask settling back into place as she nods at him once. 

Ella’s bag is still on the bed in the spare room, Jon setting her down on the floor so he can rifle through and find her things. There’s her clothes from earlier as well as a pullover, which, based on the way she’s still shivering, she could probably use. 

“Alright,” Jon says, trying to sound more confident than he feels. “Here are your dry clothes, love.” 

He helps her get out of her swimsuit and dry off with the towel, before she pulls on the rest of her clothes herself. Jon only has to help her get her shirt back on, tugging it down over her head while she sticks her arms up. “You want this too?” Jon says, offering her the sweatshirt. She nods, letting him zip it up the front once her arms are through. 

“Daddy, can you fix my hair?” she asks, turning around and patting her wet, tangled curls. Jon doesn’t say anything, studying his daughter’s head warily before reaching for the brush Dany had packed as well. 

_ You can do this,  _ he tells himself.  _ Her curls are the same as yours.  _

Jon pats them a bit more dry with the towel, then gently brushes them out, hoping to the gods he’s not hurting her. Ella doesn’t complain, standing still as he combs through the tangles, until finally they’re a semblance of what they were before. 

“Er, I can’t braid like your mum can,” he admits. “I can put the top half up, if you like.” 

“Okay,” Ella says, holding mostly still as he ties up half her curls with an elastic that had been around the brush’s handle. 

She turns around when he’s done, smiling at him so widely that it makes his heart feel close to bursting. “Thanks, Daddy,” she whispers, hugging him again, and Jon just holds her tight, thinking that he’s never quite felt as whole as he does when he has her with him. 

When they go back outside, he can feel Dany’s eyes on him, allowing himself the briefest glance. She looks— impressed, almost, he thinks. A little surprised. But then that flash of emotion is gone, hidden behind her mask again. 

As the sun sets Robb and Margaery drag more chairs over to the fire pit, everyone gathering around and Sansa going inside to get materials for s’mores. Arya, who is an expert marshmallow roaster, shows Ella and Rose just how to hold their marshmallows over the flames to get them perfectly golden-brown, both girls giggling together with their aunt. Jon grins, watching the three of them. It’s a relief, how immediately Ella took to them all. He thinks it must be overwhelming to have so much new family so quickly, but aside from her initial shyness, she’s hardly batted an eye. 

He’s so lost in thought, watching his daughter across the dancing flames, that he barely even realizes Dany’s dropped into the chair next to him. 

“Hey,” she says quietly, and Jon turns to face her, breathless for a moment at the way the light from the flames dances across her face. Her eyes almost look silver in the darkness, hair glowing from the firelight. She looks ethereal, unworldly. 

It takes him a moment to remember he’s still pissed at her. He can’t go getting sidetracked thinking about how beautiful she looks. 

“Can we talk?” Dany asks, brow pinching, and Jon sighs, because even just from the way she says it, he knows what this is going to be about. 

“I’m not apologizing for the band gettin’ back together,” he says, mouth a hard line. They’re far enough away from the rest of the group that as long as they keep their voices low, no one will overhear them. Fat chance of that happening, he knows, especially given Dany’s reaction yesterday to the subject. But to his surprise, she doesn't argue— she nods. 

“I know. You shouldn’t,” she says.  _ “I _ wanted to apologize. For how I reacted yesterday.” She exhales, shaking her head. “It was just… a lot to take in. I felt sort of blindsided, I guess. But that’s not an excuse for what I said to you.” 

“What?” he says, blinking at her dumbly. Dany shrugs, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. 

“What I said about you not knowing how to be Ella’s father. That was cruel, and I shouldn’t have said it.” He stares at her, feeling even more bloody confused. Dany meets his eyes, and there’s something there— a softness, almost. It’s so unlike anything he’s seen since she came back he almost can’t place it. 

“I know this is all new to you,” she says. “And I know you’re doing the best you can. And you were right— if I don’t give you the chance, then you’ll never be able to do more.” She exhales, pausing for a moment. “And just for the record… you’re doing a great job so far. It’s sort of surprised me, how good you are with her after so little time. I see the two of you together, and I—” 

Dany trails off, eyes dropping down. “It makes me really happy,” she says. “That she has you now. That she loves you so much. And I guess that’s why I lashed out,” Dany admits, gaze meeting his once again. “I’m just so scared that with the band, you’re not going to have time for her. And I can’t watch you break her heart like that.” 

“Dany,” he says, fighting to keep his voice under control. He knows it would be easier to shout at her, let the anger consume him like it had last night, but what had he gotten from that? A shitty night’s sleep, an almost hangover, and a round of anxiety attacks about Dany disappearing into the night with their daughter in tow? 

No, he has to be rational and reasoning and calm now. For Ella’s sake, at least. 

“I know the band is a lot,” he says. “But it won’t be like last time— and I know you think we can’t know that, but we  _ do.”  _ Her eyes are still locked on his, a tad skeptical. “We have record labels comin’ to  _ us  _ for this. We can afford to be picky, and to set our priorities with them before we sign a single thing. And you can bet that Ella is going to be at the top of my list. That’s… nonnegotiable.” 

She exhales, still looking unsure, but she doesn’t scream at him, so he counts it as an improvement. 

“The last thing I want to do is hurt Ella,” he promises. “I swear it, Dany. But… I need them in my life too. Nothing’s been the same since we fell apart. Ever since we’ve agreed to give this another try…” Jon exhales, glancing at her. “I’ve felt more like myself than I have in years. And I’m not willing to throw that away.” 

“I know,” Dany says. “And I know I can’t ask you to do that.” Her eyes soften, brow furrowing. “Just seeing the three of you back together, even today— you seem so happy. And I want that for you, I really do.” It’s strange, hearing those words come out of her mouth, but he can tell that she truly means them. His heart thuds against his ribs, his eyes finding hers again, staying trapped there. 

“I just don’t want it to be at the expense of Ella,” she whispers, her gaze imploring. “Please don’t do that to her, Jon.” 

He squeezes his eyes closed, trying to tamp down the anger that those words inspire— as if he would ever do anything to intentionally hurt their daughter. But she’d been honest with him, so maybe he owes her a bit of truth himself. 

“I almost had about a dozen panic attacks in between when you left last night and when you showed up this afternoon,” Jon says, scrubbing at his face. Dany blinks at him, clearly surprised. “All I could think was that you were going to disappear again with her.” He exhales, holding her gaze. “I cannot live in this state of uncertainty where you hold access to my daughter over my head like a fuckin’ death threat if I step out of line. I don’t want to have to go to court to sort this out, because I don’t want to drag Ella through that, but Dany, I will if I have to.” He shakes his head, watching her watch him. “I know you want what’s best for her, but I do too. And I don’t know what more I need to say to you to prove that.” 

Dany just looks at him, quiet for a moment, her expression vulnerable and raw as she considers his words. “How about this,” she offers, words quiet. “I’m not going to take Ella away. I couldn’t— I know I let my temper get the better of me last night when I said that, and I’m sorry. I was never going to do that, and I never  _ want  _ to have to do that. And I don’t want to use her as a bargaining chip either.” She exhales, eyes burning into his. “But if I think things are starting to get like they were before— if I think Ella’s in danger of being hurt— I will talk to you, and you have to promise to actually listen to me.” 

_ Like they were before,  _ he thinks briefly, wondering what the hells that’s supposed to mean. Like what was before? Back when he was drinking still? She wasn’t even here for that. But Dany’s looking at him expectantly, offering him a compromise where he doesn’t have to live in this constant state of fear, and he nods in agreement before she can change her mind, not allowing himself to dwell on anything else. 

“I’ll listen,” he says. “I swear it. But you have to promise to give me a chance to fix things if you think they’re wrong, aye?” He exhales. “You can’t just… vanish again.” 

“Okay,” she says, nodding. She gives him a little smile, and it feels like peace. Understanding. “Can we go back to our truce?” Her eyes grow sheepish. “I’ll try not to let  _ my  _ temper get the best of me either.” 

Jon smiles a bit too, nodding at her. “Aye.” 

They sit in silence for a moment, watching the dancing flames as their daughter laughs with Arya and Margaery, but it’s not stifling and uncomfortable like it had been last night. Now the quiet is… easy. Comfortable.

“I was wondering,” Jon says, breaking the silence. Dany turns so she can look at him again. “I have a few spare bedrooms in my house. I wanted to redo one for Ella. So she has her own place there.” He meets her eyes, a little taken aback at the smile that’s pulling at her lips. Soft, and secretive, and full of fondness. Like how she used to look at him before. “What d’you think of that?” 

“I think that’s a great idea,” she says. “I think she’d really love that.” 

He nods, glancing down briefly. “I know that I don’t have a fuckin’ clue what I’m doing,” he says, Dany laughing softly. “But I really do want to be there for it all. Not just the fun parts. I want to  _ truly  _ be her father.” He looks at her, eyes imploring. “But I can’t do that without your help, Dany.” 

“I know,” she says, eyes blazing. “I’ll get better about meeting you halfway.” 

Before he can say anything else, Ella is racing over to them, climbing up into Dany’s lap and snuggling into her side. “Hey, baby girl,” Dany says, her smile fond as she smooths Ella’s now-dry curls back. “Did you roast lots of marshmallows with Aunt Arya?” 

“Mmhmm,” she hums, eyes drifting closed. “I’m so full, Mumma.” 

“That’s alright,” Dany says, a hand resting on her back. “We’ll go home to bed soon, okay?” 

Ella’s eyes open blearily, finding Jon. “I like your family, Daddy,” she says, fingers curling into the collar of Dany’s shirt. “They’re fun.” 

Jon chuckles. “I’m glad, love. They like you a lot too.” 

Ella’s asleep on Dany’s chest barely a minute later, Jon’s heart squeezing at how adorable she is, curled up into her mum. “Thank you, again,” Jon says, that anger that’s been bubbling under the surface for so long suddenly disappeared, like it evaporated into the warm night air. “Thank you for coming.” 

“Of course,” Dany says, nodding a bit. There’s that smile again, just a hint of it, and for a moment he sees the girl he fell in love with, right there before him. 

“Halfway, right?” she says, and Jon nods. 

“Aye. Halfway.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story Jon is reading to Ella is The Paper Bag Princess by Robert Munsch, which is an excellent kid's book, for the record :)
> 
> Chapter title is from [I Believe!](https://youtu.be/d4lSke63WMI)


	5. I know that you're bad for my health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany’s cool, collected expression now isn’t hostile, but it isn’t filled with fondness either. This isn’t like it was in the past, when they would look at each other and smile and not need to use any words to communicate. The girl in his memories— the softness of her skin, the sweet taste of her mouth, the warmth of her gaze— that’s someone else. Someone who’s been lost to him for a long time. 
> 
> The woman before him now broke his heart and hid his daughter from him. How can he go getting caught up in the past when this Dany isn’t even the same person he’s been missing? 
> 
> Jon shakes his head, trying to dislodge the rest of the fog. Everything’s different now, he knows. After everything Dany did— he can’t let his guard down around her, let himself get disarmed by memories of a phantom. He can’t forget all the anger and resentment he feels. She doesn’t deserve his forgiveness. 
> 
> But gods, that pull of their pasts is hard to ignore, even if it leads to a place that doesn’t exist anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO I am back with another chapter. So technically I didn't meet my NaNo goal and finish this by the end of December, but WHATEVER it's fine it's done. The next chapter is Christmas themed and tbh I am not confident in my ability to get it written in time to actually post it at Christmas, so we might have to celebrate again in January haha. But I will have an advent fic posted soon-- hence why I wanted to get this chapter up so quickly, lol. Don't expect my updates to remain this fast 😂
> 
> Huge shoutout to Fer and Giulia for betaing this in RECORD time, to Alice for the gorgeous moodboard, to evermore for powering me through editing, and to the stomach bug that knocked me on my ass last week and gave me a week off from work to sit in bed and actually work on this fic. I hope you enjoy this chapter-- let me know what you think!!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50723922458/in/dateposted-public/)

“What d’you think?” Jon asks Ella, looking at her conspiratorially. “You think it’s ready?” 

“Hmm,” Ella says. It makes him smile, how seriously she seems to be considering it. “I think so.” 

They’re sitting cross legged on the floor in her newly decorated bedroom, their project for the last couple of weeks every time Ella had come over. Jon did most of the heavy lifting— he painted the walls, moved around the newly purchased furniture, hung curtains and arranged toys— but Ella helped him pick everything out, making it unmistakably  _ hers.  _ When Jon had proposed the idea, she had been beside herself with excitement at the prospect of getting both a room in his house,  _ and  _ a room she could decorate.

Dany hasn’t given him any update on the search for a house of their own. But a part of him likes that Ella’s first real spot that’s  _ hers  _ in King’s Landing is with him. 

“Alright,” Jon says, fishing his phone from his pocket. “I’ll tell your mum that when she comes to pick you up, she can bring Missandei and your Gran, if they want to see too.” 

He shoots off a text to Dany before putting his phone away again, eyes turning back to Ella. She’s stood up, reverently stroking the bedspread on her new bed. 

Jon has to admit, he’s pretty proud of how the room came out. He’d left most of the design decisions up to Ella— colors, themes, the likes. She’d wanted something like Cinderella, her favorite princess, so the walls are a beautiful light shade of periwinkle blue, her bedding shimmery like it’s been coated in fairy dust. Ella had wanted a canopy, of  _ course,  _ and the most extravagant princess bed that the furniture store had had available, but Jon hadn’t even blinked an eye before handing over his credit card. She absolutely loves it, and that’s all that matters to him.

He missed out on spoiling her for six years, so he figures buying her a fancy bed is the least he can do. 

The rest of the furniture is white, the curtains a mix of lilac and blue like the princess’s enormous ball gown, but Jon’s favorite part has to be what Sansa had done. Always talented at painting, at Ella’s request, she’d etched the silhouette of the fairytale castle on the wall over her bookshelf in shining silver, the pumpkin carriage rolling right up to the gates. And fluttering around the castle and throughout the whole room, she’d painted butterflies like the ones that adorned Cinderella’s dress, beautiful shimmering wings making it seem like they’re about to leap off the walls and flit through the air. 

“You like it, sweetheart?” Jon asks, and Ella turns back to him, positively beaming. 

“It’s the best room ever, Daddy,” she says, and then she’s in his arms, hers tight around his neck as Jon hugs her. 

“I’m glad you think so,” he murmurs into her hair, kissing her crown. “And now that it’s finished, I think you can start havin’ sleepovers here.” 

“With Ghost too?!” she says, pulling away, and Jon laughs. 

“Of course, with Ghost too.” 

Dany arrives not long after with both Missandei and her mother, Ella running right into her mother’s arms as she babbles excitedly about her new room. “It sounds amazing, sweet,” Dany says, pecking her nose. “Do we get to see it?” 

Ella looks back to Jon, who shrugs. “Of course. Ella, lead the way.” 

She grabs Dany’s hand, tugging them all down the hallway. Jon brings up the rear, chuckling when Ghost weaves through everyone so he can be next to Ella as she leads them to her new bedroom. 

“Ta da!” Ella says, doing a twirl in the middle of her room. Dany’s eyes go wide as she takes it all in, Missandei and Rhaella looking equally impressed. 

“Wow, Ella!” Dany says. “You and Dad did a great job. This is beautiful!” 

She preens at her mother’s praise, Jon smiling a bit as he leans against the doorframe, watching them all look around the room. Missandei runs a hand over the smooth white wood of the dresser, Rhaella tracking the butterflies with her eyes. 

“Aunt Sansa painted these, didn’t she?” Dany says, fingers tracing the turrets of the castle, the wings of the closest butterfly. Ella nods, hugging her mum’s legs. 

“I love it, Ella,” Missandei says, crouching down next to the little girl and making Ella smile again. “It’s the perfect Cinderella room for a real princess.” 

“It did come out beautifully, Jon,” Rhaella says, startling him. He hadn’t even realized she was at his side. 

“Thanks,” he says. “Most of it was Ella’s idea. I just did all the manual labor.” 

“It’s perfect for her,” Rhaella says, watching her granddaughter fondly. “I’m glad she has a place that’s hers here.” 

Jon nods, thumbs hooking in his pockets awkwardly. He still can’t really get a read on Rhaella, and whether or not she hates him. She doesn’t  _ seem  _ openly hostile towards him, which he supposes is a good sign. Although compared to the warmth she used to treat him with, her cool, collected demeanor is practically the same as hostility. 

“You have a beautiful house,” she continues, Ella telling Dany and Missandei about something, the three of them oblivious to his conversation. “Though it does seem a bit big, for just you.” 

“Aye,” Jon says with a nod. “I, er, wasn’t really lookin’ at size when I bought it. I just liked the location. The yard and the pool. The privacy.” He shrugs. “It’s not bad, havin’ all the extra rooms. Arya actually lived with me for a while, after…” he hesitates. “After I got sober.” 

There’s no use sugar coating it, he supposes. They all know what happened to him. How he almost lost it. How he almost wasn’t here today to even meet his daughter. 

“That’s good of her,” Rhaella says. She looks at him, and Jon thinks, just for a moment, that he can see a bit of the old kindness she used to give him. 

“Well, she was goin’ to school in the city anyways, so it saved her rent,” he says with a shrug. “Gods know I had plenty of space for her to live for a few years. And then my mum always has a spare room too, when she comes down for Christmas.” 

Rhaella nods, her smile growing fonder. “How is Lyanna?” she asks, her violet eyes fixing on his. 

“She’s good,” he says, nodding. “She’s been back in Winterfell for a while now. But she comes down and visits a few times a year.” He chuckles. “Now that Ella’s here, I’m sure she’ll want to come down more.” 

Rhaella laughs. “I’d imagine so. She must be excited to meet her. She’ll be here this Christmas?” 

“Aye,” Jon says with a nod. “I just talked to her about it the other day, actually.” 

“It’ll be good to see her again,” Rhaella says, looking away wistfully. Jon nods, not sure what else to say. 

“Did you say your mum will be here for Christmas?” Dany interrupts, Jon’s gaze snapping back to her. 

“Aye, she always comes to visit for a few weeks in December,” he tells her. “She can’t wait to meet Ella this year.” 

Ella, to everyone’s surprise, pulls a face at Jon. “I have to meet  _ more  _ people?” she says, Jon biting back a smile. Missandei is trying valiantly not to laugh, hiding her snickers behind her hand. 

“Don’t you want to meet your grandma?” Jon asks. Ella gives him a look, and Dany joins Missandei in trying to stifle her giggles. 

“I already  _ know  _ my grandma, Daddy,” she says. Jon chuckles. 

“No, your other grandma,” he explains. At that, his daughter’s eyes go wide. 

“I have  _ two  _ grandmas?!” she exclaims. Gods, it takes all of his willpower not to laugh— Dany and Missandei are already losing that battle, Rhaella seeming as if she’s about to join their ranks. 

“Well, sure,” Jon says, kneeling down as Ella comes over to him. “I’ve got a mum too, don’t I?” 

“Daddy, you have the biggest family  _ ever,”  _ she says, and at that he can no longer hold the laughs back. 

“I do, don’t I,” he muses, kissing Ella’s nose. “Sorry about that, love.” 

Ella laughs, squirming out of his arms and taking Rhaella’s hand, dragging her off to show her the castle Sansa had painted. Dany eventually comes to stand next to him, eyes still trained on the room. 

“It really does look great,” she says, smiling at him slightly. “Thank you for giving her this, Jon.” 

He shrugs. “It’s nothing, really,” he tells her. 

“It’s not,” Dany says. “This is… this is everything, to her.” She looks at him again, her eyes shining. “She’s  _ really  _ never going to want to leave your house now.” 

Maybe it’s the words she’d just said, or maybe it’s the look on her face, but all of a sudden Jon feels like he’s been sucked into the past. In a different lifetime, Dany had curled up next to him in his bed, her smile secretive and her eyes sparkling in the bright morning sunlight of his brand new apartment with Robb and Theon. 

_ “Now that your mum’s not here to catch us, I’m really never going to leave,”  _ she had whispered, Jon grinning before he’d kissed her, rolling her underneath him on the mattress.

“We can work out some sort of schedule, if you’d like,” he hears Dany say, but her words sound distant, far away. He pulls himself out of the memory, the warmth of it fading as he comes back to reality. “If you want to have her stay over once a week or so.” 

“Ah, sure,” Jon says, his mind still a little foggy. “That would be great.” He’s spent so long trying to push away the past that being so viscerally reminded of it still has him in a haze. His heart aches, longing for those days again when things were simple and he and Dany loved each other. 

The warmth of sunlight on his skin, the softness of her body pressed against his. The scent of her shampoo in his nose and the feel of her heartbeat under his palms. Gods, he misses it like it’s a physical part of him that’s been torn away. 

“Okay,” Dany says, and he looks back to her, taking her in. 

There’s no shine in her eyes like there used to be, no softness in her expression. They’ve been perfectly civil with each other since their truce at Robb’s house, but  _ civil  _ is exactly what it is. Pleasantries and small talk, hardly any subjects of conversation aside from their daughter. They haven’t fought once, but… but. 

Dany’s cool, collected expression now isn’t hostile, but it isn’t filled with fondness either. This isn’t like it was in the past, when they would look at each other and smile and not need to use any words to communicate. The girl in his memories— the softness of her skin, the sweet taste of her mouth, the warmth of her gaze— that’s someone else. Someone who’s been lost to him for a long time. 

The woman before him now broke his heart and hid his daughter from him. How can he go getting caught up in the past when this Dany isn’t even the same person he’s been missing? 

Jon shakes his head, trying to dislodge the rest of the fog. Everything’s different now, he knows. After everything Dany did— he can’t let his guard down around her, let himself get disarmed by memories of a phantom. He can’t forget all the anger and resentment he feels. She doesn’t deserve his forgiveness. 

But  _ gods,  _ that pull of their pasts is hard to ignore, even if it leads to a place that doesn’t exist anymore. 

Dany and Missandei and Rhaella leave with Ella a bit later, Jon giving his daughter a parting hug, but even after they’re gone and it’s just him and Ghost, he feels a little bit of that lingering haze. That lost, desperate desire to go back to the past. 

But that’s not an option, as nice as it would be. 

“C’mon, Ghost,” Jon says, pushing down the memories, hopefully once and for all. “Let’s go for a run.” 

They run for miles, feet pounding against the pavement, and with every step, Jon feels the memories sink deeper and deeper back into the dark where they belong. 

***

“Wait, play that for me again.” 

Jon looks up from the lyrics he’s been poring over, eyes darting between Robb and Theon as Theon plays back the bit of melody he’d just come up with. “What d’you think?” Theon asks, fingers tapping against the face of the guitar once he finishes, Robb looking lost in thought. “I think it might be kind of cool to make it  _ sound  _ happy and upbeat, but then you listen and you realize the lyrics are something different. Kind of ties into the whole facade theme of the song, aye?” 

“That’s brilliant, really,” Jon says, leaning forward. He tosses his notebook to Robb, nodding at him. “Robb, sing the chorus back with it.” 

Theon plays the melody again, Robb singing along with the words Jon had just tweaked. He reaches for his own guitar and nods for them both to repeat it, adding in the rhythm to Theon’s melody. 

“I love that,” Robb says. He exhales, leaning back on the couch. They’ve taken up writing and practicing, spitballing ideas and seeing what they can make work at least a few times a week in the practical recording studio Margaery has in the basement of her and Robb’s house. It’s been a cathartic process, Jon has found— not just to work through his emotions with Dany, like he did when he wrote  _ Used to Be,  _ but to work through it all with his bandmates. Theon had thrown out the idea for this song when they’d started this session, and Jon wonders if it’s because of the conversation they had a few weeks ago, when they went to the Grove. It’s nothing they ever would have been allowed to record back before the breakup, because the last thing Hollywood Records wanted people thinking was that The Almost Brothers were miserable under their control half of the time. 

It’s good to get it out there now, Jon thinks. Even if they can’t put this song on their theoretical next album. It’s nice to… talk about it, almost, through this format. It helps him process how trapped he’d felt at the end of it all, when they’d been worked to the bone and forced to keep smiling. And it’s a massive relief to know that he wasn’t the only one that felt that way. 

“Sometimes I wonder,” Theon says, absentmindedly picking at strings on his guitar, playing some nonsense melody. “D’you think people knew we felt like that? At the time?” 

“What, like every aspect of our lives was being controlled?” Robb says. Theon nods. 

“I dunno. For me, in the moment, and the people close to us— I wonder how they could have  _ not  _ seen it,” Robb says. “I mean, we were twenty-something year olds being coached and groomed into these squeaky clean, cookie cutter pop stars. Our music was our own, at least, but everything else about us they tried to make scripted.” 

“Remember when we got photographed at a bar and they retaliated by pushing up our album release so that we wouldn’t have any time off after our tour?” Jon muses. “Under the pretense of making the next tour longer.” He shakes his head. “Sometimes I think about what would have happened if we’d pushed back more.” 

“That’s the thing, wasn’t it,” Theon says. “We were so scared it would all disappear that we never argued. It felt like an impossible dream for so long that we worried if we didn’t listen, or do every interview, or follow their orders, we’d be gone again.” He shrugs. “It’s complicated. I’m beyond grateful for Disney, because would we even have made it to begin with without them?” He pauses, still strumming his guitar absentmindedly. “But then I also hate them, because if they hadn’t pushed us past our limits, would we have even fallen apart in the first place?” 

Jon looks down, eyes trained on his lap. He can feel Robb’s gaze burning into him, can practically hear his cousin say the words,  _ well, maybe if Jon hadn’t lost it we wouldn’t have.  _

Thankfully, his phone rings, distracting him from the conversation at hand. Jon grabs at it, seeing Dany’s name flashing across the screen and answering immediately. 

“Hey,” he says, leaning forward. “Dany?” 

“Hi,” she answers, though her voice sounds… wrong, somehow. Stuffy and hoarse. “Er, what are you doing today?” 

“I’m rehearsing,” he says, Dany remaining silent on the other line. She’s kept up her end of the truce for the past few weeks— anytime he mentions the band, she doesn’t say a word, and every time he feels ready to scream at her, he forces it down. Weirdly, the urge has been less and less frequent as time has passed. Maybe he’s starting to let go of his anger, stop letting it control him. Or maybe he’s just so bloody distracted with the band and Ella that he hasn’t had the time to entertain it as much. 

“Why, what is it?” he asks. Dany sighs, sniffling, and his brow furrows. 

“Do you… would you mind taking Ella for the night?” she asks. “I have a bit of a cold, and I just don’t have the energy to take care of her. I just need to get some rest, and she’s been asking about you anyways, so…” 

“Oh,” Jon says. “Er, of course. But isn’t your mum—” 

“She left yesterday to go back to Dragonstone to see my brother for a few days,” Dany says. “And Missandei’s at a work thing all night.” She pauses. “Plus, she’d rather spend time with you than them.” 

His heart speeds up a little at that, a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. “Aye, that’s fine,” he says. “Er… I can pick her up on my way home from Robb’s? I’m leavin’ pretty soon.” He ignores the sharp look Robb gives him— Ella comes first, always. 

“That would be great,” Dany says, sniffling again. “You’re a lifesaver, Jon.” 

“I’ll see you soon,” he says, before hanging up and turning back to Theon and Robb. 

“You have to go?” Theon says, putting down his guitar. Jon nods. 

“Aye, I’m sorry. Dany’s not well, and she needs me to watch Ella.” 

“Jon,” Robb says, the displeasure in his voice evident. “We were supposed to work on this for another hour or so.” 

“I can’t, Robb, I’m sorry,” Jon says, though he doesn’t really feel it in the slightest. He won’t be swayed on this, no matter how much Robb tries to guilt trip him. “I need to put Ella first. You know that.” 

“I do, and you should,” Robb says. Jon’s eyes narrow, because he’s starting to think his cousin doesn’t actually understand. “I just… I worry, y’know?” 

Jon bristles at that. “What is that supposed to mean?” he says. Worry that he’ll let them crash and burn again? Worry that he’ll pull the rug out from under them all? “I don’t know what else I need to tell you, Robb. Ella is my priority, always. I don’t want to abandon the band or anything, but if she needs me, I’m going to be there.”

“I know, I’m sorry— that’s not what I meant,” Robb says, wincing. “You should go be with Ella, of course. I meant I worry about you and Dany. And… I dunno, how often you’re with her.” 

“Well, we have a daughter together, see,” Jon says sarcastically. “Seeing her is sort of inevitable.” 

“Jon, you’d tell us if you weren’t alright, right?” Theon asks, and it takes him aback a bit. “We just don’t want you getting hurt again.” 

“Aye,” Robb says hurriedly. “I don’t want you to, y’know… backslide.” 

_ Relapse,  _ Jon thinks, is what he really means.  _ Start drinking again.  _

“Don’t worry about me,” he grumbles. “I know how to take care of myself, alright?” He sees the skeptical looks both of them give him, but elects to ignore them, because he knows what they’re thinking. Sure, back  _ then  _ he might have dealt with his emotions in a destructive way, but he’s not like that anymore. 

“Besides,” he says. “It’s not like we’re friends or something. Just because we don’t fight anymore doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven her for what she did. We’re just… bein’ civil, for Ella’s sake.” 

“We’re here for you, y’know,” Robb says, but somehow Jon has a tough time believing him. “If you ever need help.” 

“Or just to vent,” Theon adds. “You can always bitch to us.” 

Jon chuckles at that. “Thanks, Theon,” he says, putting his guitar back in its case. “I’ll see you both tomorrow, aye?” 

They bid him farewell too, Jon briefly stopping to say goodbye to Margaery on his way out, before he sets off for Dany’s house. 

As he sits in traffic, he can’t help but let his mind wander. He’s not getting too close with Dany, right? It’s far better now, as opposed to what they had before when they were constantly at each other’s throats. And it’s better for Ella too, he knows. Just because they’re not arguing doesn’t mean she’s forgiven, or they’re friends, or anything like that. Robb is just projecting, worrying about what had happened in the past for no reason. He can still feel that simmering anger in his gut if he thinks about it for even a moment. It’s not going anywhere anytime soon, he knows. 

But then… 

Jon thinks back to last week, when she had first seen Ella’s new room. How easily it had been to slip back into the past. But that had just been a one-time thing, a fleeting moment of clouded judgement. He’s not going to forget everything that Dany did, even if they are on speaking terms now. It’s like he’s realized right after getting caught in the past: the person he’s missing doesn’t even exist anymore. 

_ Missed,  _ he corrects himself. He doesn’t miss Dany. There’s no sense in missing something that’s never coming back. 

He buzzes in at the gate of Dany’s house, parking his car next to hers in the drive. The door is locked, so he punches in the code and lets himself in, peering around the empty entrance way. 

“Dany?” he calls, heading down the hall. “Where are you?” 

“Daddy!” he hears, a smile lighting up his face as Ella comes racing out of the living room, barreling into him. 

“Hey, love,” he says, hugging her tightly. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” she says, her smile bright. “We get to watch more movies tonight!” 

“Aye, we do,” Jon says, ruffling her curls. They’ve been systematically making their way through his new streaming services for the past few weeks, and still they’ve barely made a dent. “Where’s your mum, Ella?” 

“She’s in there,” Ella says, eyes widening dramatically as she points to the living room. “She doesn’t feel good.” 

“Mm, I heard,” Jon says, hand resting on Ella’s shoulder as he follows her into the living room. Sure enough, there’s Dany, curled up on one side of the couch, wrapped in a throw blanket. 

“Hey,” she says, turning her head towards him at the sound of approaching footsteps. Jon blanches, taking her in, because she looks far off from a  _ bit of a cold.  _

“Seven hells, Dany,” he says, Ella gasping quietly at the curse word next to him. He grimaces, Dany rolling her eyes. “Pretend you didn’t hear that, love,” he says, covering Ella’s ears and making her laugh. “You look… awful.” 

“Thanks, Jon,” Dany says sarcastically, pulling her blanket tighter around her. Her voice is hoarse and quiet, as if speaking hurts, and her eyes are almost as red as her nose. 

“I meant this doesn’t look like just a cold,” he says, brow furrowing as he takes a step closer to her. Before she can do anything, he rests the back of his hand on her forehead, recoiling almost immediately. “You’re burnin’ up, you know.” 

If he wasn’t so concerned about the fact that she clearly has a fever, he would allow himself to dwell on the irony of those words, seeing as she was the one who that song inspired. “I’m fine,” Dany insists, coughing pitifully, her shoulders shaking. 

“You are  _ not  _ fine,” Jon insists. “You have to have a fever. Do you have a thermometer or somethin’?” 

“Stop it,” she mumbles. “You’re making a… a big deal.” Jon ignores her, walking down the hall to the bathroom, rifling through the medicine cabinet. Sure enough, there’s a thermometer, and he takes it back to her. 

“Put this under your tongue,” he instructs as Ella comes up behind him, clutching his legs. 

“Mumma, are you okay?” she asks, voice small. Dany glares at Jon, as if her probably having a fever is  _ his  _ fault. 

“She’s fine, sweetheart,” Jon assures her, shooting Dany a look. “She’s just sick. Don’t worry, she’ll be okay.” 

The thermometer beeps, and Dany takes it out of her mouth, handing it back to Jon. As soon as he reads the number on the screen, he rolls his eyes. 

“You have a fever of a hundred and two,” Jon says, Dany groaning as she falls back against the pillows. “That’s not nothin’. Do you have a doctor?” 

“I did in Essos,” she says. “Not here. Anymore, at least.” 

“I’ll call mine,” Jon says. “You need to rest. I’ll stay here with Ella, so I can keep an eye on you too.” 

“You don’t need to take care of me, Jon,” she says, and while it sounds a bit petulant— he looks in her eyes, and he sees the hesitancy there. The fear. Sure, they might have a truce, but this extends past being cordial with each other, probably. 

Jon exhales, running a hand through his hair. Regardless of the past, regardless of the confusing mix of emotions he feels when it comes to Dany… he can’t leave her alone when she’s like this. As if to prove his point, she coughs again, groaning as she buries her face in a throw pillow, eyes squeezing shut. 

“I’m not leavin’ you here alone,” he says, voice quiet. “So you can forget that.” 

Dany seems to concede at his words, her shoulders sagging a bit. “Fine,” she says. “Just… watch Ella, alright?” 

“Of course,” Jon says. “Ah, fu—” He cuts himself off, remembering his six year old is hovering next to him still. “Ghost is still at my house.” 

“Can Ghost come here?!” Ella says, suddenly bouncing with excitement, any fear at her mother being sick forgotten. Jon looks to Dany, raising an eyebrow in question. She shrugs in a manner that suggests she doesn’t have the energy to argue. 

“Fine. But you’re vacuuming.” 

Half an hour later he’s called Arya, asking her to bring him Ghost and a bag of things, and Doctor Luwin, arranging for him to stop by. Dany still gives him a look the entire time that suggests she thinks he’s being  _ highly  _ dramatic, but he ignores her. Ella, at least, seems distracted from her earlier distress over Dany’s health by the prospect of his dog showing up. 

Arya shows up at the same time Doctor Luwin does, dropping Jon’s bag at his feet and immediately hugging Ella before even saying hello to him. “Thank you for coming,” he tells her regardless. 

“Of course,” Arya says, waving him off. “We’ll go play with Ghost in the back while the doctor looks at Dany, aye?” 

“That’d be great,” he tells his cousin. “Ella, want to go play with Aunt Arya and Ghost while Mum talks to the doctor?” 

His daughter gives him the biggest smile before taking off down the hall, calling for Ghost and Arya to follow her. 

Doctor Luwin is quick in his assessment of Dany— “Probably a twenty four hour bug; we’ve seen them going around,” he tells them. “Lots of rest, lots of fluids, and you can take some cold medicine to help you sleep tonight, alright?” He gives Jon a pat on the arm on his way out. “Feel free to call me if she gets worse, but I think she’ll be better by tomorrow, most likely.” 

Jon nods. “Thanks for comin’ on such short notice,” he says, walking him to the door. 

Dany’s eyes are half closed when he comes back, her blanket tighter around her. Jon sighs, sitting next to her on the couch. 

“Jon,” she says, turning towards him, and she looks so pitiful he almost wants to laugh.

“Mhm?” he says, grinning at her a bit. It must truly be infuriating for her, because he knows how much she hates seeming weak. 

She never used to mind around him— he used to be one of the few who was allowed to see her at her most vulnerable. But that, he knows from her closed-off expressions and emotionless facades, has changed as well. 

Dany sighs, squinting at him with annoyance. “I feel like shit.” 

Jon chuckles, and it’s hard to ignore the quick rush of fondness that fills his heart. “I know,” he says, standing. “C’mon. You want to go lie in bed? You can take a nap, and I’ll keep Ella occupied.” 

“Thank the gods,” Dany says, coughing as she stands, still hugging her blanket tightly around her. “I love that child more than anything, but sometimes she exhausts me. Reminds me of you,” she mutters, shaking her head. “How you’d run around on stage every night for months on end.” 

There’s a pang in his chest at that— once again, memories from another life brought right back to him. But he pushes it away, forces it down. He’s already fallen into that trap earlier this week, and he knows it’s a dangerous, slippery slope. 

He gets Dany tucked into bed, trying not to think  _ too  _ much about the sight of her burrowed under the sheets, and how he used to wake up to that every morning. Luckily, the reappearance of his daughter and dog downstairs provides a sizable distraction from his tangled emotions. 

“Daddy, where did Mumma go?” Ella asks, her eyes wide. Ghost is right at her side, one of her little hands buried in his white fur. 

“She’s just upstairs resting, love,” Jon assures her. “The doctor said she needs lots of sleep, so we have to let her be, aye?” 

“Okay,” she says. She doesn’t even look up at him as she wanders into the living room, Ghost following after her dutifully. Jon blinks, not used to her looking so glum, before turning back to Arya. He’ll cheer Ella up in a minute.

“Thank you again,” Jon says, his cousin waving him off. “I really appreciate it.” 

“Of course,” Arya says. Her brow furrows. “How’s Dany?” 

“Doctor Luwin didn’t seem concerned,” Jon tells her. “He said it’s probably a twenty four hour thing. She should be better tomorrow.” 

Arya gives him a look, Jon crossing his arms defensively. “So you’re just going to stay here till tomorrow?” she asks. 

“What else am I supposed to do, Arya?” he replies hotly. “She has a fuckin’ fever. I can’t leave her all alone in the house while she’s like that.” 

“Okay,” Arya says, shrugging. “I just thought you were here for Ella, not Dany.” 

He rolls his eyes, fed up with her stubbornness. If  _ he  _ can manage to be civil, even relatively  _ pleasant,  _ with Dany, then Arya should be able to as well. Why does no one trust him and his ability to handle things himself? “I am here for Ella,” he says. “How do you think she’d react if I just left her mum alone in this house when she’s sick?” He scowls, but Arya doesn’t back down. “I know what I’m doing, alright?” 

“If you say so,” she says. “This just seems like… a lot to me.” 

“What d’you want me to do, hm?” he snaps, taking care to keep his voice low. “Her mother is out of town and Missandei is busy. She doesn’t  _ have anyone else,  _ Arya.” He shakes his head. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I have to go watch Ella.” 

“Alright,” Arya says, though the look in her eyes lets Jon know she doesn’t really believe him. “I’ll see you later.” 

Jon gives himself a moment after Arya leaves to collect himself, calm his flared temper. That twist of irritation in his gut is gone by the time he walks back into the living room, finding Ella on the sofa with Ghost, halfheartedly petting his ears. 

“Hey, love,” Jon says, concern for his daughter washing away any lingering annoyance at his cousin. “What’s wrong?” 

Ella looks at him with those eyes, bottom lip trembling, and his heart breaks. “Is Mumma going to be sick forever?” 

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” Jon says, melting. He pulls her into his arms, a hand smoothing over her back comfortingly. “Don’t worry, alright? The doctor said she’ll be better by tomorrow, probably. It’s nothing serious. She just needs to sleep, so her body can get better.” 

“Promise?” Ella says, peering up at him. He nods. 

“Promise,” he says. Her eyes brighten at that, and Jon grins, dropping a kiss on her nose to make her laugh again. He hates seeing her sad. If he could banish everything in the world that erased that sweet smile from her face, he would do it in a heartbeat. 

“So what should we do?” Jon asks her. “We’ve got a while before dinner time. I think we should save movies for after then, aye?” 

_ “Aye,”  _ Ella says, mimicking him while trying not to giggle. Jon loses that battle immediately— hearing her copy his accent is fucking adorable. “Sometimes you talk so silly.” 

Jon laughs again. “It’s my accent,” he tells her. “Because I grew up in the North. Everyone there sounds like me. All your aunts and uncles talk like that too, y’know.” He pokes her nose, making her grin. “You, on the other hand, sound exactly like your mother.” 

Ella preens at that, her smile so wide that Jon can’t help but match it. Her joy is infectious, he’s found. Seeing her so happy just makes him feel like all is right in the world. 

She drags him off to her toy room— which seems to just be a spare bedroom that all her stuffed animals have taken up residence in— telling him that she wants to play farm. Jon isn’t exactly sure what that means, but he follows her gamely, Ghost coming along too, much to Ella’s delight. He plays along as she explains the game, flitting from stuffed animal to stuffed animal and pretending to be a slew of different farm animals herself in rapid succession. Jon does what she says, Ella laughing with delight as Ghost bounds around them, tail wagging the whole time. It’s a testament to how much his dog loves her, Jon thinks, that he doesn’t even bat an eye when Ella puts a bunch of stuffed animals on his back to ride him like he’s a horse. 

So immersed in Ella’s make believe world, Jon doesn’t even realize what time it is until Ella pauses, declaring she’s hungry. “I think it’s dinner time,” Jon says. “What should we have?” 

There’s mac and cheese in the cupboard, which seems a good enough option as any. Jon spies a can of chicken noodle soup as well, so he heats that up in a separate pot for Dany. Having Kraft mac and cheese for dinner immediately brings him back to the early days when he and Theon and Robb had just moved into their own apartment, giddy with the freedom of living on their own for the first time and no parental figures to tell them to eat balanced meals.

“Alright,” Jon tells Ella, putting her bowl in the dishwasher. “I’m going to bring this to your mum for dinner, and then we can watch movies?” 

“Okay!” Ella says, hopping down from her island stool and racing for the living room, Ghost barking and following after her. Jon shakes his head fondly, taking the bowl of soup and the bottle of cold medicine he’d found in the downstairs bathroom and heading for Dany’s room again. 

She’s half asleep when he pokes his head in, watching television, though she sits up a little at the appearance of him in her doorway. “Hey,” Jon says, tentatively taking a step in. “Er, I brought you dinner.” 

“Thanks,” Dany says, her voice still scratchy. “How has Ella been?” 

“Perfect,” Jon assures her. “We just ate as well. We’re going to watch movies now.” He puts the soup down on the bedside table, the medicine as well. Dany takes the bowl, hesitantly sipping. 

“She was worried about you,” Jon tells her, and Dany’s shoulders sag. 

“She’s sweet,” she says, eyes casting down. “You told her I’d be fine, right?” 

“‘Course,” Jon says. “Are you feelin’ any better?” 

“Not really,” she says. “Though the nap was nice.” Her eyes close for a moment, the swallow of soup she just took looking labored. 

“Well, I brought some cold medicine,” Jon says, nodding toward the bottle. “Should help a little. At least let you sleep.” 

“Thank you, Jon,” Dany says, eyes finally meeting his. Even red and glassy, they take his breath away. “Truly.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Ah, I best get back to Ella. Text me if you need anything, aye?” 

She nods, giving him a little smile that doesn’t reach her red eyes, before Jon slips out of the room again. 

_ See,  _ he wants to scream at everyone who’s doubted him in the past few hours. There’s nothing besides polite conversation and neutral expressions between them. They’re not friends, they’re not enemies. Everyone should realize the possibility of him losing his cool and screaming at her again is so much greater than the chance of him backsliding or something else equally as ridiculous. 

Ella is already on the sofa downstairs, brow furrowed as she intently scrolls through Disney Plus. Ghost is curled up at her side, his head resting right against her legs. 

“You picked a good one yet?” Jon asks. Ella’s gaze leaves the television, grinning as Jon comes and takes the seat next to her. “We watchin’ another princess movie?” 

“No,” Ella says. “I want to watch Lilo and Stitch.” 

That’s another one that Jon’s never seen— gods, for a prior Disney star, he has an abysmal knowledge of their film repertoire. “Alright,” Jon says, shrugging. “Queue it up, then.” 

It’s a cute movie, Ella beside herself laughing at Lilo’s antics and Stitch’s destructiveness. Jon’s not really sure how anyone can even begin to believe he’s a dog— he’s fucking  _ blue,  _ for the sake of the gods— but seeing as it’s a children’s movie, he supposes it’s not the most egregious plot hole. It does break his heart, though, seeing Lilo so desperate for a friend that she wishes for an angel to be sent to her. He looks over at Ella discreetly, watching her face as she watches the movie, trying to discern how she feels.

He prays to all the gods that she doesn’t feel like that. He knows she doesn’t have many friends, simply because of the circumstances of him and Dany, and the need to protect her privacy, but gods above, he hopes she isn’t lonely like this. 

He knows that Dany’s been bringing her over Robb and Margaery’s to play with Rose every so often. Still, he can’t help but feel guilty— just by nature of who he is, keeping his daughter safe also means raising her in an environment that’s so isolated from other kids her age. 

The movie goes on, Lilo trying to teach Stitch to be like Elvis, all of them surfing as Ella sings along to the song. But all of a sudden Stitch is running away with a copy of  _ The Ugly Duckling,  _ and Jon finds his eyes wet, heart squeezing. 

“Ella,” he says, blinking back tears, as Stitch yells that he’s lost. “Why’d you pick this?! This is sad!” 

“It’s okay,” Ella says, snuggling up closer to him. “There’s a happy ending.” 

“There better be,” Jon grumbles, trying to wipe away his tears discreetly. 

It gets  _ much  _ worse before it gets better— he nearly loses it at “ohana means family,” but eventually it does have a happy ending, he sees. Ella had started crying too at some point, her cheek damp against his arm when he’d pulled her in close. 

“See,” Ella says, as a montage of photos showing Lilo and Nani and Stitch fill the screen during the credits. “It’s okay at the end.” 

“Mm,” Jon hums. “Still. Next time, I’m pickin’, alright?” 

Ella giggles. “Okay, Daddy.” 

He ruffles her hair, smiling at her, and the way her eyes crinkle and her grin grows makes his heart melt. “Alright,” he says to her. “Movie’s over. Time for bed.” 

Ella squawks in outrage, her eyes going wide. “Bed?” she says. “But I want to stay up with you!” 

“Mm, nice try,” Jon says, giving her a look, but he still can’t help the smile pulling at his lips. “Your mum said you have to go to bed at eight.” 

“But  _ Daddy,”  _ she says, flashing him puppy dog eyes that rival Ghost’s. “Do I really have to?” 

“Aye, you do,” he insists. “It’s late, love. You need to rest.” 

She pouts, crossing her arms and turning back to face the TV. Jon just blinks at her for a moment, taken aback. He’s hardly ever seen her as anything other than happy, bursting with sunshine— and he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he is absolutely not prepared if she is about to throw a temper tantrum. 

Even if Dany had apologized for what she’d said, her words still ring in his head. He has no idea how to do any of this parenting stuff aside from playing with Ella and having fun. 

“Ella,” he prods, and he has no fucking clue how to get her to listen to him, but he has to try  _ something.  _ He can’t just be the pushover parent that lets her get away with whatever she wants. “C’mon, sweetheart, it’s bedtime.” She doesn’t respond, eyes still set determinedly ahead. “Ignoring me isn’t going to change that.” 

“I’m not tired,” she says stubbornly, and Jon exhales, shoulders sagging. Gods, she is  _ definitely  _ Dany’s child. He’d like to avoid her having a meltdown over being forced into bed, but he really doesn’t have the slightest idea how. 

“Maybe not right now, but you will be soon,” he says. Ella glances at him, arching an eyebrow in a way that makes her look  _ scarily  _ like her mother. “See, look,” Jon says, nodding towards Ghost, who is fast asleep on the sofa. “Ghost is ready for bed.” 

Ella bites her lip, brow still furrowed. “Can Ghost sleep with me?” she asks. 

“If you go up and get ready for bed, sure,” Jon says. Bargaining probably isn’t the  _ best  _ parenting technique, but he’s desperate, so he goes with it.

“Okay,” Ella sighs, falling back against the couch cushions. She looks at him, all the stubbornness gone from her gaze, her eyes wide and vulnerable again. “Daddy?” 

“Mhm?” 

“Will you still be here when I wake up?” she asks, and his heart  _ breaks.  _ Is that why she doesn’t want to go to bed? Because she’s scared he’ll leave in the middle of the night? 

“Of course, sweetheart,” he says, smiling at her gently. “I’ll still be here, promise. We can make breakfast together, if you like.” 

That makes her grin again, before she leans forward and hugs him, falling into his lap. Jon kisses the top of her head, heart close to bursting as he holds her tight. 

“Alright,” he says. “Let’s let Ghost out again and then we’ll go get dressed for bed.” 

“Okay,” Ella grumbles, but she stands up, so he counts it as a victory. 

She drags her feet all the way from the backyard to her bedroom, acting like Jon’s marching her off to her death as he herds her up the stairs. Ghost bounds up ahead of her, past Dany’s closed door, jumping right up onto Ella’s bed and flopping across her purple comforter. 

“Pajamas?” Jon asks, and Ella sighs, opening her closet. 

“Up there,” she tells him, pointing to a basket, and Jon pulls it down for her. “I want my Cinderella ones.” 

He identifies the correct pair, helping Ella get changed into them. “Alright, let’s brush our teeth,” he says, ignoring the tortured look on his daughter’s face as he ushers her across the hallway. He’s never seen someone look so glum while washing up, he thinks, watching as she squirts toothpaste on her toothbrush and cleans her teeth dejectedly. 

Still, her teeth are brushed and her pajamas are on, Ella dragging her feet back across the hall to her room. Ghost is still curled up on the end of her bed, so he shoos his dog off in order to turn down the blankets. But Ella just stands there, little arms crossed, a pout still on her face. 

“Ella,” he says, trying not to sound too desperate. They were doing  _ so well.  _ “You have to go to bed, love.” 

“But I don’t want to,” she whines, turning on him again. Jon resists the urge to bury his face in his hands and groan once more. 

“I know,” he says. “But if you stay up late, you’ll be tired tomorrow, and we can’t do anything fun.” His eyes catch on her bookshelf, and he turns back to her. “I’ll read you a bedtime story if you like,” he offers. 

She seems to consider, before finally giving in, climbing up into her bed. He resists the urge to fist pump in victory and instead tucks the blankets around her, Ghost snuggling right up to her side. “What one?” Jon asks, walking over to her shelf. “D’you want to hear one with a dragon again?” 

“You pick,” she says, distracted by petting Ghost. He finds one that he remembers them reading a few weeks ago that she had liked, bringing it back over to her bed and sitting down next to her. Ella sighs, curling up into his side, and his heart melts again. 

By the time they’re finished with the book, Ella’s beginning to yawn, Ghost already asleep next to her. He places it on her bedside table, tucking her curls behind her ear as she sits back up. Pride suddenly fills him, because he actually  _ did it.  _ Teeth brushed, pajamas on, tucked into bed— maybe he  _ can  _ do this whole fathering thing. Granted, she has yet to fall asleep, but clearly she’s getting there, based on the way her eyelids are drooping. 

“Daddy?” she asks, and he hums, meeting her sleepy eyes. “Can you sing me a bedtime song?” 

“Sure,” he says, just relieved that she’s not making another play for getting to stay up late. He racks his brain, trying to figure out if he knows any songs that qualify as ‘bedtime’ music. Twinkle Twinkle Little Star will have to do, he reasons. He can go and google lullabies after she’s asleep. 

Ella smiles when he finishes singing, so Jon figures it was an acceptable choice. “You have a pretty voice,” she tells him, which makes Jon chuckle. 

“Thanks, sweet,” he says. “That’s what I used to do, y’know.” 

He wonders, then. If Dany ever told Ella about that part of his life. 

“You used to sing?” Ella asks, brow furrowing. Jon nods— apparently not. 

“Like how your mum is on television and in movies,” Jon says. “I used to be in a band with your uncles Robb and Theon. We’d have concerts and sing our songs to fans all the time.” 

Ella’s eyes are wide with wonder, and for a moment Jon regrets bringing it up, because she doesn’t look tired in the  _ slightest  _ now. “Really?” she asks, leaning in closer to him again. Jon strokes her hair, trying not to grin when she stifles a yawn. 

“Mhm. We had a lot of people who really loved our music.” 

“Is that why you… know piano?” she asks, yawning again. Jon smiles. 

“Aye. I know guitar, too. I used to play while we sang. And when we wrote music.” 

“Daddy, can you sing me one of your songs?” she asks, and she sounds so earnest, so hopeful… how is he supposed to say no?

“‘Course, love,” he tells her, pressing a kiss to her head and making her giggle. Jon thinks for a moment, trying to settle on a song. He could sing one of the new ones, probably— they have a bunch of them mostly finished at this point. But for some reason, the only song that really comes to mind is  _ Lovebug.  _

He doesn't know why. All things considered, it should probably be the last song he sings. But he can’t help it— it’s like some nagging insistence deep inside him, so he sings her the first verse and chorus, Ella sighing contently as he does. 

She’s beginning to nod off by the time he finishes, so Jon gently lays her down, pressing a kiss to her forehead and giving Ghost a pat on the head. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispers, and she murmurs something inaudible before her eyes drift closed, curled up beneath her blankets. 

Jon walks back down the hall in a trance, mind still reeling. Gods, that’s the first time he’s sung that song since— since that night. The night where everything went wrong. Where it all fell apart. 

His fingers itch, wanting to play out the whole thing. Absurdly, he considers going and grabbing his guitar from the car. 

But then he comes to a stop in front of Dany’s room, and the sense of dread that he’s associated with that song since that night comes crashing back down on him.

Though a lot of that time was a drunken haze, Jon can remember that night in perfect clarity. Just thinking about it… he can feel the anger again, simmering under the surface. The pain he’d felt, white hot, burning like a brand on his heart at the thought of singing those lyrics. The rage and betrayal and _ hatred _ that had been in Robb’s eyes, the disarmed look Theon had given him. 

Jon sighs, scrubbing at his face with his hand. He’s here to take care of Ella, and consequently Dany— not get sucked back into the past. 

And to that point, he realizes he hasn’t checked up on Dany since before he and Ella watched their movie. 

Steeling himself, he shoves down any lingering memories of  _ Lovebug  _ and opens Dany’s door. 

“Hey,” Jon says, poking his head into the bedroom. Dany groans from her bed, twisting over so she can see him. It’s sort of hard to harbor any anger against her when she looks so small and pitiful, her nose red and eyes blurry. “Er, how are you?” 

“A little better,” she sighs, sitting up a bit as Jon comes over to perch on the side of the bed. “The medicine helped.” She pauses a moment, meeting his eyes. “Thank you for taking care of me, Jon.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, fighting the urge to smooth her hair behind her ear like he does for Ella. “I put Ella to bed as well,” he tells her. “Teeth brushed, bedtime story read and everything.” Dany slumps back against the pillows, tugging her blanket up to her chin. 

“You did?” she says, and Jon looks at her, alarmed at how tearful she suddenly sounds. Sure enough, her amethyst eyes are watery, her lip trembling. 

“Of course,” he says. “Though she did try to convince me you let her stay up past eight. But she came around eventually…” He trails off, not sure what to say, because she looks like she’s on the verge of crying. “Dany, are you alright?” 

He hopes she realizes what he means; he’s not referring to the cold she’s got, because clearly she’s not okay in that sense. But the way she’s looking at him, her expression so fragile and open— it disarms him, after weeks of them being closed off from each other. He isn’t used to her looking at him with so much emotion. 

“You’re so good to me, Jon,” she sighs, turning her face towards the pillows. “I don’t deserve it at all, and you still… you’re still here.” 

He blinks, puzzled by her words. Gods, was the cold medicine  _ that _ strong? “‘Course I am,” he says. “I couldn’t leave you alone like this.” 

She sniffles, reaching for a tissue, and Jon’s startled to realize she’s  _ crying.  _ “Hey,” he says, panic flooding his system. Gods, it’s still some ingrained reaction in him, even after all this time. He hates seeing her upset, even though now he shouldn’t care. 

“Dany, what the hells is wrong?” he says, helping her sit up. She slumps against his side, Jon wrapping an arm around her as she sniffles quietly. 

It strikes him, then. This is the first time he’s held her in seven years. He can feel his heart thump against his ribcage, the lemony scent of her shampoo making it race even faster. She’s so warm and soft against him, her head fitting right into the crook of his neck like muscle memory. 

He should probably be furious at her for crossing this line, reminding him of the life they used to have together. But she’s so sad, so vulnerable… he just pushes it all aside, holding her to him.

“I feel sick,” she whispers, and Jon exhales, rubbing her back soothingly. 

“Aye, I know,” he says. “You have a fever.” 

“No, not like that,” she mumbles. “I’ve felt sick ever since… ever since I came back.” 

His brow furrows, tilting his head to meet her eyes. Hers are blurry and red, wet with tears. 

“You’re not makin’ any sense, you know,” he says gently. She makes some undignified noise— halfway between a sob and a hiccup, turning her head into his shoulder so he can’t see her face. 

“I’m sorry, Jon,” she says, his hand stilling on her back at the whispered confession. “Gods, I’m so fucking sorry for all of it. For leaving. For never telling you about Ella.” She shudders, her whole body shivering, and Jon brings his other hand to her back too, bringing her in closer to warm her up. 

“I see you with her and I feel sick to my stomach with guilt,” she confesses. “Because you should have had that with her for years, not months. And it’s all my fault that you didn’t.” 

Jon’s left speechless, unsure what to say. He agrees with what she’s saying, obviously— gods know he’s screamed basically those exact words at her enough times— and while he knew she felt bad for keeping Ella a secret, he had no idea she felt like  _ this.  _ The anger he’s felt towards her since she came back— since she _ left,  _ really— dries up at her words. She’s told him she knows she made mistakes, and while he appreciated that, there had been a certain apathy to her words. He’d wondered, vaguely, if she _ really _ felt sorry. But she seems wracked with guilt, beside herself at the consequences of her choices. 

“There were a million times I could have told you about her.  _ Should  _ have told you about her,” she mumbles. “I remember holding her in my arms right after she was born, and I was a  _ mess,  _ and looking at her little face, she looked just like you whenever you were pissed off.” She turns her head, sighing. “You know the face you make. And I just fell apart. All I wanted was to tell you about her, try to make things right again, and I couldn’t do it. I was so close, and I couldn’t find the words.” 

“Why not, Dany?” he says, words tumbling out before he can stop them. He knows this probably isn’t the best time to have this conversation— she’s feverish and hopped up on cold medicine, for starters— but the possibility of  _ answers  _ is just too tempting. 

“I was so scared when I found out,” she says, trembling again, face hidden in his shoulder. “I was terrified I’d mess up everything you had. That you’d drop it all, give up everything you’d worked for, everything you’d ever  _ dreamed  _ of having, because of me.” She inhales shakily, and Jon can feel her tears soaking through his shirt sleeve. “The band, your music, your  _ brothers…  _ and I knew if I took that away from you you’d hate me. And then when she was born, I thought I finally had worked up the nerve, but… but it was already too late.”

“Fucking hells,” he says, more to himself than to her. And to think he’d lost all of that anyways— in the end, what was it all for? 

Dany mumbles something incoherent into his shoulder, her body shaking again. Instinctively, he begins to stroke her back, an engrained motion that he does without even considering, learned from too many years of loving her. 

“And now here we are anyways,” she says. “I’m not sure what’s worse, really. But either way, what I did was… was awful. And I can’t blame you for hating me.” 

It’s the same thing she said to Missandei a few weeks ago, and it makes his heart clench now just like it did then. Aye, maybe he should. But there’s something in him that rejects the idea wholly. The idea of hating Dany makes him sick to his fucking stomach. 

He sighs. “Dany, I could never hate you,” he says softly, because it’s the truth. “I can be really fucking mad at you for what you did, because I  _ am—” _ He exhales, a hand absentmindedly twisting in her curls. “But I don’t hate you. I never will.” 

“I think you probably should,” she mumbles. “I would, if I were you.” 

“No you wouldn’t,” he murmurs. “I don’t think you can hate me. Same as I can’t hate you. It’s just who we are.” 

Jon’s not quite sure what compels him to be so honest with her right now— maybe it’s how vulnerable she is, spelling all this out for him. Maybe it’s the weeks and weeks of anger and bitterness and bottled up emotions finally dissipating, leaving room for something else. Maybe it’s the fact that holding her while she cries, comforting her in her pain, reminds him of a time when they’d loved each other more than anything. 

Maybe it’s the way a part of his heart desperately yearns for that feeling again, of having someone who wants him so completely. 

“Yeah,” she mumbles. “You’re right.” She sniffles again, clutching to him tightly— hells, he thinks, that cold medicine must be strong, because he can’t see her willingly being so vulnerable with him these days. “Even when my heart was broken, I couldn’t hate you. You gave me… the best thing in my life.” 

His head ducks, eyes closing. That he understands. No matter how furious he is with Dany, no matter how much anger he harbors towards her, nothing will ever outweigh the fact that she is the reason he  _ has  _ Ella at all. 

“I wish I’d been brave enough,” she mumbles. “I don’t hate you, but sometimes I hate myself. All the time, really. I wish… I wish I was strong enough to tell you. Like you deserved.” 

His brow furrows, letting her words sink in. The way she shakes in his arms like a leaf, the raw honesty of her words— he never would have guessed she was grappling with so much self loathing, almost drowning in guilt. No wonder she’s pouring all this on him now. He knows what it’s like to try to choke down emotions that strong for so long. 

And yet it’s strange as well. Dany’s always been the bravest person he knows. Did the thought of facing him, telling him the truth,  _ honestly  _ terrify her so much? And why? 

“I wish you had too,” he says, simply because it’s true. “I wish I could have been there for her the way she deserved.” 

“Gods, you should have been. You’re such a good dad,” Dany says, on the verge of sobbing again. “It’s only been a few months and you’re amazing with her. And I knew you would be. I always have. You’re… the kindest person I know, Jon. You have the biggest heart, even if you don’t always let people see it.” She shakes her head. “Watching you with her is the best and the worst at the same time. Because I love to see how much she adores you. But then it just makes me feel sick with guilt all over again.” 

“Hey, hey,” Jon says, smoothing back her hair, holding her close. It’s strange that  _ he’s  _ the one doing the comforting here, considering Dany is the one who fucked up, but he can’t help it. Something inside him twists like a knife in his gut seeing her so upset. “Dany, listen to me, okay?” She quiets, shuddering again in his arms. 

“I won’t lie to you— yes, I’m still furious you hid Ella from me. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you for not picking up a phone and just telling me. But,” he says, trying to keep his voice calm. “Robb said something to me, a bit ago. He told me we can’t hold onto our anger over things we can’t control, because it doesn’t change anything. And I think it’s the same, yeah?” 

She remains quiet, aside from her soft sniffles into his shoulder. “There’s nothing we can do that will change the past. Nothing that will erase those six years. All we can do now is go forward.” He sighs, fingers still playing with her hair. “And even if I wish I’d been in Ella’s life from the start, I’m glad that I am now, at least.” He smiles a bit. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me as well.” 

It’s been so little time that he’s had with her, and yet Jon finds it impossible to even consider his life with Ella not in it anymore. Where would he and Dany even be right now if it weren’t for their daughter? She would still be in Essos, probably. He might not have had reason to join the band again. And he certainly wouldn’t be here holding her right now. 

“Gods, I’m such a mess,” she mumbles, wiping halfheartedly at her nose. Jon leans over, grabbing a tissue for her. “I’m sorry for dumping all this on you, Jon. After… after all I’ve done, you shouldn’t have to listen to me mope about choices I made.” She shakes her head, shuddering against him. “You’ve already been…  _ so  _ nice to me today. Taking care of me. And Ella.” 

“S’alright,” he murmurs, a hand stroking over her hair absentmindedly. It makes him feel a little better, as twisted as that is, to see that Dany’s still so torn up about her decision, even six years later. It’s comforting to know it wasn’t some easy way out for her, some quick choice before she carried on with her life. 

“It’s really not,” she says. “I think I just… forget. Or sometimes I want to forget. Pretend things never changed, you know?” His heart races at the words, at the idea. He rarely lets himself consider it, because he knows it’s impossible. But right now, holding her, it’s hard to deny how much he wishes they were back before she left. Jon doesn’t know what, but he’d do things differently. 

If he had the chance again, he’d make sure he didn’t lose her. 

“I just miss you so damn much,” she whispers, like a confession, face still buried in his shoulder. Jon exhales shakily, bowing his head so it rests against hers. 

“I miss you too,” he admits, the words sticking in his throat. Because they’re  _ true,  _ and he knows they shouldn’t be. It’s a stupid thing to say, especially when Dany’s already upset and vulnerable, but he can’t help himself. The scent of her shampoo and the warmth of her body has him falling back into daydreams of used-to-be. 

They don’t say anything else— Jon just holds her, still stroking patterns across her back, trying to soothe her soft cries. Finally they ebb, and he realizes it’s because she’s fallen asleep on his shoulder. 

Gently, he eases her back down into the bed, resting her head on the pillows and tucking her hair out of her face. Her cheeks are still shiny with tears, so he swipes at them softly, running his thumb across her cheekbones. She looks angelic laying there, even with puffy eyes and a reddish nose. 

Memories hit him like a freight train— waking up with her next to him, soft morning sunlight making her hair on the pillow around her glow like a halo. The feel of her body wrapped in his arms, the two of them curled up in his bed together. 

His heart yearns for it, for him to climb in next to her and pull her close underneath all the blankets. To go back to how they used to be. To feel her soft body against his own, let her warmth and her scent pull him under. 

If he closes his eyes, he can see his old room in their old apartment, Dany tangled in the sheets that smelled like her shampoo, his arms draped over her. The way the morning sunlight would make her eyes sparkle as she’d turn in his arms to kiss him sweetly. 

_ “I think we should stay here forever,”  _ she’d whisper to him, that gorgeous grin pulling at her lips, and Jon would be lost in her all over again. 

He hadn’t realized how much he missed her physical presence until she’d been in his arms again, her skin soft as it brushed against his. Everything in him is begging him to curl up next to her, pull her into his chest and hold her until she feels better. 

Jon blinks, shaking his head. What the fuck is he doing, thinking like that? He’s letting himself get dragged under again. He stands, even though his heart is screaming at him to  _ stay,  _ to lay down and tug Dany into his arms. 

It would be  _ so  _ easy. 

But he can’t. That’s a dangerous path to go down. He can’t just let himself forget everything that’s happened because of a few golden memories.

Slowly, Jon stands up, making his way back to the door. But even so, he can’t resist one last look, even when his hand rests on the knob, ready to close it. The yearning in his heart, the desperation to  _ stay  _ so overpowering that it scares him. 

He retreats down the hall to the spare bedroom he’s in, mind still reeling. The moment he’s alone in the dark, that longing melts away, replaced with common sense. What the fuck is he  _ thinking,  _ dreaming about being with Dany again, getting lost in good memories? Things won’t go back to how they were, and the sooner he remembers that, the better. Entertaining ideas of how they used to be will just cause him more pain in the end. This is where they are now— there’s no changing that. Nothing that can undo it.

He can’t ignore everything that’s happened. He can’t let Dany’s confessions erase their past. He knows that. But his heart… 

Well, it seems that his heart is much more willing to forget. 

***

Jon wakes up to an elbow in his side. 

He blinks blearily, the room coming back into focus slowly. At first he’s confused, and then it all comes rushing back— coming over Dany’s, realizing how sick she was. Staying with Ella, taking care of Dany. Sleeping in one of the guest rooms. 

And now— Ella, attempting to climb into his bed. 

“Ella,” Jon says, rubbing at his eyes. “What are you doin’, love?” 

“Good morning,” she says sweetly, smiling at him as she finally manages to climb up into his bed, and he chuckles. It’s impossible to stay mad at her, especially with that angelic grin. “Is it breakfast time?” 

Jon yawns, sitting up. “I dunno, is it?” he asks. He glances over at the clock— almost eight thirty. Gods, playing nursemaid  _ and  _ keeping Ella occupied must have drained his energy more than he thought. “Mm. I guess it is.” 

“Can we have pancakes?!” Ella asks, scrambling out of bed as Jon makes to follow her. He chuckles, pushing his hair out of his face. 

“Sure, if you have pancake mix,” he says. “Let’s go check, alright?” 

Ghost, he realizes, is right beside her, tail wagging a mile a minute. “Did Ghost hog all your blankets?” Jon asks as they make their way down the stairs and to the kitchen, Ella giggling. 

“No. He’s a good puppy,” she declares. 

Jon snorts, patting Ghost’s head fondly. He seems to be just as infatuated with Ella as she is with him. “I’m glad he was on his best behavior,” Jon says. “I bet he wants breakfast too.” 

“Does Ghost like pancakes?” Ella asks, standing on her tiptoes to reach the shelf in the cupboard with the pancake mix. Jon grabs it off the shelf before she can fall and hurt herself, placing the box on the counter. 

“Aye, he does, though he’s not supposed to have too many,” Jon says. “But we can make him a little one for a treat.” 

Ella makes a face at Ghost’s  _ actual  _ breakfast, nose wrinkling when Jon puts the raw mix into his bowl and places it down. “You want to help me with pancakes?” he asks her, effectively distracting her. 

They carefully measure in the milk and the oil, Jon cracking the egg before handing over the whisk and letting Ella mix. He has to pull over a bar stool for her to kneel on in order to reach the counter, holding her waist to make sure she doesn’t accidentally fall. It’s absolutely adorable, seeing how intensely focused she is on mixing them all together, her tongue sticking out and brow furrowed. 

“That looks perfect, love,” Jon says, ruffling her hair when she grins proudly. “Ready to cook them up?”

“Are you making breakfast?” Jon hears. He looks up, finding Dany lurking in the doorway, her blanket still wrapped around her. 

“Mumma!” Ella says, Jon grabbing her before she falls off the stool with excitement, lowering her back to the floor so she can run over to Dany’s side.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dany says, hugging her back, her smile soft. 

“How are you feeling?” Jon asks. Dany’s eyes dart back up to him; already, he can see they’re not as red, but they’re much more guarded than they were during their last conversation. Weirdly, that comes as a relief.

“A lot better,” she says. Her voice doesn’t sound as hoarse either, he realizes. “My throat’s still scratchy, but my fever broke, and walking down the stairs didn’t completely exhaust me, so that’s an improvement.” 

“Pancakes will make you better,” Ella declares, pulling her over to the island. Dany laughs a bit, taking a seat at Ella’s instruction. 

“Well, I’ll never say no to pancakes,” Dany jokes, making their daughter giggle. Jon’s heart gives a lurch, hearing the two of them laughing together, so he turns back towards the stove, where the pan is hot enough to start cooking. 

“Don’t forget the one for Ghost!” Ella reminds him. Ghost’s ears perk up at the sound of his name, and he abandons his empty bowl to sit at Jon’s feet instead, flashing his best puppy dog eyes towards him. 

“Like he’d let me forget,” Jon jokes. “Ghost, stop beggin’, would you?” 

Jon gets to cooking up their breakfast, Ella oohing and ahhing when he flips the pancakes. Jon lets her give Ghost his special pancake, plating the rest and sliding them across the island. “Here,” he says, handing Dany a steaming mug of tea. “This’ll help with your throat.” 

She blinks at him, hands slowly curling around the warm mug. “Thanks,” she finally says, and for just a moment, her expression looks a little less guarded, a little less neutral. 

He wonders if she remembers what she said to him last night, or if she was too lost to cold medicine and her fever. He wonders if she regrets saying it. If, when she said it, she  _ meant  _ it. 

Jon knows he shouldn’t have meant it when he said he misses her, but… well, it’s the truth. Even with all the anger he harbors towards her now, a part of his heart seems content to ignore that completely. To daydream about when she’d been his, and he’d been hers. 

But that’s all it is — a daydream. Nothing that will actually happen. The past is the past; he needs to remember that. And no matter what Jon used to have with Dany, he doesn’t trust her anymore. 

“Daddy, we need more syrup,” Ella says, pulling Jon from his reverie. He glances over at Ella’s plate— her pancakes are already drowning in syrup, practically. 

“Are you sure about that?” he teases. Ella huffs. “Seems to me you have more syrup than pancake.” 

“Eat what you have, love,” Dany says, taking a bite of her own breakfast. “These are good, Jon. Thanks for cooking.” 

“‘Course,” he says, swallowing. “It was Ella’s idea, really.” 

It’s a relief, almost, that Dany’s tone of voice is back to being neutral. After everything she’d said last night, Jon’s not sure he would be able to go on ignoring the past if she began talking like that again. 

He zones out as Ella gives Dany a recap of everything they did yesterday while she rested, talking a mile a minute. Ghost comes and settles by his feet, rubbing his head up against his legs as if to ground him, like he can sense the unease and turmoil within Jon. 

“Daddy only cried a  _ little  _ bit,” he hears Ella say, eyes darting up to hers. Dany is trying not to laugh, taking another bite of her pancakes. 

“In my defense, Ella picked possibly the saddest movie on the whole platform,” he rebuts. Ella giggles, her eyes sparkling as they meet his, and Jon has to bite back a laugh as well, her joy infectious. He can’t even be mad about her movie selection when she looks at him like that. 

“Mm, you think that now, but wait until she makes you watch  _ Coco,”  _ Dany says with a smirk. “I’ve never cried so hard in my life.” 

“Oh, gods,” Jon says, biting back a smile. “I’ll avoid that one, then.” 

“Are you staying all day, Daddy?” Ella says, mouth half full of pancakes. Dany gives her a look of fond exasperation, sipping her tea. 

“Ella, chew and swallow,” she reminds their daughter. “And your dad is probably busy today.” 

“I’m supposed to meet with record labels this afternoon,” he confesses, noticing the way Dany stiffens at his words. “But if you need me to stay, we can reschedule.” 

“No, it’s alright,” Dany says. “I feel much better now. And I know if I let  _ Daddy  _ watch you,” she says, raising an eyebrow at Ella, “he won’t make you do your schoolwork.” 

Ella lets out a comically loud groan, Ghost’s ears perking as he stands up from where he was sprawled across Jon’s feet. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, though,” Jon reminds her. “So if you get all your schoolwork done today, then we can play all day tomorrow.” 

“And watch Coco!” Ella exclaims, bouncing in her seat. Jon laughs, head hanging in defeat. 

“Why do you want to make me cry, hm?” he asks her, Ella laughing like mad. But his eyes dart over to Dany briefly, and the way she’s smiling at their daughter, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, eyes soft and fond— others take him, it sends his heart into overdrive. And then he remembers, looking away, trying to tamp down the feeling. 

_ Forget the past,  _ he tells himself, like a mantra.  _ Forget the past. Forget the past.  _

Even so, it’s so much easier said than done, his heart still beating, his mind filled with images of that soft smile being directed at him a thousand times before, filling him with warmth.

Gods, he might not be able to trust Dany, but it’s beginning to seem he can’t trust  _ himself  _ either. 

***

The morning sunlight on his back is warm— almost  _ too  _ warm. Jon groans, rolling over to seek refuge from the bright rays streaming in his window— he must have forgotten to close the damn curtains when they got back last night. His head pounds dully, not enough to be painful, but enough to be annoying. 

“Ugh, why is the sun so bright,” a voice mumbles, and he moves towards it instinctively, burying his face in her neck to hide from the light. “Jon, did you forget to close the curtains again?” 

“Sorry,” he says, voice still thick with sleep. Dany sighs, and he wraps his arms around her, pulling her back into his chest, his nose still in her hair. 

“What time is it?” she says, Jon yawning. 

“Dunno. Early, probably. I don’t hear Theon and Robb up yet.” 

“You should shut the curtains,” she teases, arching back into him as his hands slide down her sides, mapping all of her curves. 

“That would involve getting up,” he says, frowning. Dany laughs, twisting her head around, her back still pressed up against his front, their legs tangled together. 

Jon blinks hazily, her amethyst eyes coming into focus as he wakes up more. In the morning sunlight, they sparkle like actual gemstones. They’re still the prettiest fucking thing he’s ever seen. 

“Hi,” she whispers, smiling at him like it’s a secret. He grins back, a hand coming up to push her hair back, fingers tangling in her silver tresses. 

“Morning,” he responds, before she turns in his arms, kissing him. 

The brightness of the sunlight and the pounding of his head immediately fade from his mind as Dany’s mouth moves against his, her hands raking up his chest to tangle in his curls. There’s a grin on her lips as they pull apart, foreheads pressed together. 

“Your head hurt?” he asks, and she shrugs. 

“Not really. Mm, but I still don’t want to get out of bed.” 

He laughs as she burrows into him, wrapping her arms around his bare torso like she’s a koala. Her lips press warm kisses into his skin, legs tangling with his. 

“I mean, we could stay here all day,” Jon says. “I don’t think we have anythin’ on the schedule.” 

“Well that’s a first,” Dany teases. Jon chuckles, nosing at the crown of her head sleepily, inhaling the lemony scent of her shampoo. They’ve only been back from tour a week or so; Jon still feels like he could nap for a month and not catch up on the sleep he missed. Over fifty shows in more than ten countries around the world— it had been a marathon, to say the least. 

“Davos promised nothin’ until we have to sing at the bloody Christmas thing in Disney,” he says, eyes closing again, chest rising and falling in time with his girlfriend’s. “We deserve the month off, I think.” 

“After a six month long world tour? I think so too,” she teases. Her arms around him tighten, Jon smiling as he feels her press a soft kiss to his shoulder. “Gods, it’s so good to have you home.” 

“It’s so good to be home,” he mumbles. The last leg or so was across southern Westeros, which meant Dany was with him for most of it and everything was better than those first few months when she’d had to stay in the city. But even though Jon’s been on countless tours, slept in the back of endless buses and planes and hotel rooms, is by all means used to uprooting his life and living from a suitcase for extended periods of time— being back in his own bed in his and Robb and Theon’s own apartment is an amazing feeling. 

And having Dany curled into him is even better. 

“This certainly beats sleeping in the back of a tour bus,” she jokes, and Jon opens his eyes to meet hers, laughing with her, heart thumping at the way her eyes crinkle with joy. He can’t help it— she’s too wonderful, too warm, too fucking beautiful— he has to kiss her. 

Dany hums contently as his lips slant over hers, fingers tangling in his curls and knee hitching as she presses herself closer. The heat of her skin underneath his palms is addictive, and he smooths them down her body until he’s squeezing her arse, the lace of her panties silky against his fingertips. 

“Aye,” he murmurs between kisses. “Tough to do this on a tour bus.” 

“At least without waking up Robb and Theon,” she says, teeth tugging at his bottom lip. Jon chuckles, nodding before he flips her over so she’s on her back, making her laugh as he kisses down the column of her throat, smiling into her skin. 

“Jon,” she sighs, helping him pull her—  _ his,  _ really— t-shirt off of her. It’s from their first tour, and he shoves it up and out of the way, Dany readily yanking it over her head. The last thing he wants right now is Robb and Theon’s photos staring back at him as he ravishes his girlfriend. 

“I thought you were tired,” she says with a breathless laugh as his lips run down her torso. 

“‘M never too tired for this,” he assures her, and Dany moans, arching into him as he takes one of her breasts in his hand, thumb running over her nipple until it’s stiff. The way she exhales, head falling back and eyes screwed shut as she arches into his touch drives him mad, his cock already half hard, straining against his boxers. 

“Oh, fuck,” she mumbles as he brings his mouth to her other breast, giving it equal attention with his tongue.  _ “Jon.”  _

“Mm,” he hums against her skin, making her shudder.

Her fingers scrabble against his bare shoulders, nails raking over his deltoids as she tugs him back up to her level, kissing him fiercely. Any lingering hint of sleepiness is gone now— his heart is pounding, blood pumping through his veins as Dany nips at his bottom lip, tongue sliding against his. 

She hooks a leg around his waist, pulling him in closer and grinding her hips against his, making Jon groan into her mouth. “You’re tryin’ to kill me,” he whispers, Dany grinning wickedly as she pushes on his shoulders, flipping him over so she’s hovering above him instead. 

“Never,” she insists, but the smirk tugging at her lips suggests otherwise, making him laugh as he threads a hand through her hair, bringing her mouth back to his. 

Her hands find the waist of his boxers, tugging them over his hips so she can take his cock in hand, making his eyes roll back. “Dany,” he gasps, thrusting into her hand as she strokes his length, that self-satisfied smile playing at her lips. 

Clumsily, he grabs at her panties, shoving them to the side so he can run his fingers between her folds, the feeling of how wet she is just making him even more desperate for her. Dany makes a keening, wanton sound as his thumb runs over her clit, her head falling back as her hand slides down to join his, her own fingers teasing her entrance. 

He can’t take it anymore, the desire to be in her too strong— thankfully, Dany seems to be thinking the same thing, because she takes his cock in hand again, dragging the tip along her slit and making him groan. “You goin’ to stop fucking teasing me?” he asks her, voice hoarse, and she laughs as she kisses him again, lining him up and sinking down onto him until he’s fully inside her. 

“Oh, fuck,” Dany whines, eyes screwed shut as she rides him, slowly and leisurely. Jon’s hands find her arse, fingers digging into her soft skin and keeping him anchored as he thrusts up into her. She clenches around him, her channel so bloody tight that his mind short circuits, leaning up to kiss her fiercely as she sinks down on his cock over and over again. 

_ “Kostilus, kostilus,”  _ she begs against his lips. He’s picked up a bit of Valyrian in the years they’ve been together now, and he grins into her kiss at the desperate tone of her words. He’s close too, just one push away from falling over the edge. 

“Fuck, Dany, you feel so good,” he mumbles, one hand seizing her breast again, the other fumbling between them for her clit. She cries out when he touches her, arching her back, skin sparkling with perspiration. 

_ “Ȳdra daor keligon,”  _ she says, her pace speeding up, Jon hanging on by a thread.  _ “Iksan bē konīr.”  _

“Aye, me too,” he says, moaning again at how fantastic she feels surrounding him, her walls fluttering around him. “C’mon, love, come for me.” 

His thumb presses against her clit, Jon trailing hot, open mouthed kisses along her neck as she finally gives in, gasping as she comes, constricting around his cock deliciously. He thrusts into her a few more times before he’s coming apart as well, spilling into her as she gasps against his lips. 

Both of them sated, Dany collapses on his chest, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Jon exhales, heart still racing as he traces patterns up her spine, her chest rising and falling rapidly. 

Finally, Dany breaks the silence, moving her head to kiss his cheek innocently. It makes him smile, eyes sliding shut as her nose nudges his temple. “That is  _ so  _ much easier to do in your bed,” she says, and he laughs, chest shaking even with her still on top of it. 

“You want breakfast?” he says a few minutes later, realizing how hungry he truly is. The rest of the world tends to slip away with Dany— he forgets about the simplest of things when he’s wrapped up in her; he always has, and probably always will. 

“Mm, that does sound good.” She raises her head, brow furrowing as she sniffs. “And I think I smell bacon.” 

They clean up and pull back on their hastily discarded clothing— Dany, thankfully, adding shorts to her previous attire— before heading out to the kitchen. Sure enough, Robb is at the stove cooking eggs and bacon and pancakes while Theon watches, the smell of the food making Jon’s stomach grumble. 

“Theon,  _ why,”  _ Robb says, running a hand through his rumpled curls as he flips a pancake. “I’m cooking you breakfast with a hangover and  _ this  _ is how you repay me?” 

“It’s an acoustic guitar! It’s not even plugged in!” Theon argues, Robb groaning. “You can barely hear me!” 

“Not true,” Robb grumbles. Dany laughs, fingers still laced with Jon’s as he pulls her into the kitchen.

“Morning,” he says to his brothers, both of them looking up. Theon’s sitting at the island, guitar in his lap as he mindlessly plays melodies, as he’s apt to do. 

“Morning,” Robb says, leaning back against the counter. “Don’t you two look  _ well rested.”  _

Jon rolls his eyes, ambling over to the stove to steal a piece of bacon, easily dodging Robb’s hand as he tries to slap him away. Dany laughs, pouring herself a cup of coffee before taking the island stool next to Theon. 

“You already working on the next album?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow at him. Theon blanches. 

“Seven hells, no,” he says, fingers still plucking at strings. “Just fuckin’ around. Davos said we didn’t have to work anymore until after Christmas, and I’m taking that very seriously.” 

“You and me both,” Robb says, taking a sip of his coffee. “Gods, my head fucking kills.” 

“Seems like a you problem,” Theon says, Dany snorting into her mug. “Is breakfast done yet?” 

“Y’know, I’m starting to think Dany can have your food instead,” Robb says, eyes narrowing. Theon looks horribly affronted, hands falling away from the guitar. 

“What?” he squawks. “But I was up first! I asked nice!” 

“Aye, and now you’re being a prat,” Robb says. “Dany, you like bacon with your eggs, right?” 

“Mm,” she says, nodding. “Of course, if Jon doesn’t eat it all first.” 

“Hey,” Jon says, looking at his girlfriend, wounded. “He hadn’t even noticed!” Robb turns to survey the pan, eyes going wide when he realizes Jon’s been systematically snagging pieces. 

“For the sake of the gods, Jon, cook your own damn breakfast,” Robb grumbles. “Fuck, I’m way too hungover for this.” 

Jon laughs. “Hells, Robb, how much did you drink?” he asks. “Dany and I feel fine.” 

“I dunno, enough that everything is sort of fuzzy,” Robb says, squinting. “Was it a dream, or did I talk to Margaery fucking Tyrell last night?” 

“I dunno, did you?” Theon asks. “She was there, that I do know.” 

“I’m still not  _ fully  _ recovered from that,” Dany says, hands wrapped around her mug. “I know you three are famous, but  _ Margaery Tyrell…  _ wow.” 

Robb snorts. “Thanks for that, Dany.” 

“How was she even there?” Jon asks. “I mean… isn’t she too famous for shitty dive bars?” 

“She’s friends with Myrcella, isn’t she?” Theon says, Jon shrugging. “And she was there last night too.” 

“I think I did talk to her,” Robb says, head tilting to the side as he contemplates. “She… was teasin’ me about my accent, I think.” 

“Forget the world tours, this is how we  _ truly  _ know we’ve made it,” Jon says, snatching another piece of bacon, making Dany giggle into her hand. “Robb flirts with Margaery Tyrell and she doesn’t immediately laugh in his face.” 

Theon begins playing again, just mindless chords and strings of notes, as Robb adds more bacon to the pan, deeming the eggs done and transferring them to plates along with the cooked pancakes. Dany smiles softly at Jon as he comes up beside her, leaning his chin on her shoulder as she offers him her fork to take a bite. 

It’s been so long since he’s felt peace like this— calm, contented emptiness. Nothing to fill his day, no obligations or interviews, sessions in the studio or meetings with label representatives. The past few months on tour and then the months before that with the second Camp Casterly Rock movie, and then the tour before  _ that  _ and their new album, all the talk shows and press circuits and award shows and special performances… Jon feels like it’s been an age since he was able to breathe. He genuinely can’t think of the last time he’d finished something, be it filming their movie or recording their album or touring the country, when he’d gotten more than a week or so off. Jon knows Davos had to fight the record tooth and nail to get this break written into their schedules, but he’s beyond grateful. As much as he loves making music and touring and getting to share that connection with all the fans— the reason they’re doing this in the first place is because they’re like brothers. If they don’t have time to recharge, to act like  _ real  _ brothers do, then do they lose everything that makes them special? 

Sometimes Jon feels like their lives have become some crazy impossible dream, their trajectory extending on past the stratosphere. And sometimes he feels like the only possible ending for this is some horrible fiery wreck. 

The latter, though, seems less and less likely when they get moments like this. 

He takes another bite of Dany’s breakfast, laughing along with Theon at whatever Robb just said, and allows himself to, for just a moment, enjoy the quiet. 

***

Meeting with record labels, Jon finds, feels like an endless parade of salesmen trying to convince him to buy a car he’s only half sure he wants. 

It seems like they’re having the same conversation over and over again on loop— talk about what they want to do, play a few songs, listen to what the record label can offer them, what they’ll bring to the table. Jon’s thankful that Davos is mediating, for the most part; he can’t even begin to fathom how he survived meetings like this when he was barely seventeen. 

They’ve made it through four so far in the past couple weeks, and Davos promises them that the one today is their last prospective label at the moment. Jeor Mormont immediately strikes Jon as different from the rest of the people they’ve already met with— he’s quieter, more choosy about his words, not immediately launching into a sales pitch. They play him parts of  _ Used to Be  _ and  _ Strangers,  _ and when Jon turns around on the piano bench to face him again, the other man’s brow is furrowed in concentration. 

“That’s good,” he finally says. “Really good. It sounds modernized, current to the times, but still like  _ you.  _ Not a rebrand, but authentic to your pasts.” 

“That’s what we want,” Robb says. “We don’t want to forget about what we’ve done before, or erase where we’ve come from. But the fact of the matter is we’ve all grown up. Our music has too.” 

“Exactly,” Davos says, capturing Mormont’s attention again. “This new music of theirs— it shouldn’t be a rehashing of the past. It should be somethin’ new, but still be somethin’ their fans will recognize. And they want that room to grow, with a label. Not just be expected to do the same damn thing they’ve always done forever.” 

“I couldn’t agree more,” Mormont says. “If you boys want to make a comeback, a  _ successful  _ one, that’s what you need to do. Figure out how you’ve changed, and show your loyal fans that through your songs.” 

“That’s what’s most important to us,” Theon says. “We don’t want to be pushed into a box. We don’t want to be forced to be something we’re not. We want a label who’s willing to let us grow.” 

“A label that’s willing to let us be ourselves,” Jon says, eyes boring into Mormont’s as he meets his gaze. “We’ve done the measured recipe for success, followed all the rules and done whatever people told us to do. That’s not what we want anymore.” He can feel everyone in the room staring at him, but Jon needs these people to understand this— as do Robb and Theon. The three of them are counting on a record label taking a leap of faith, and affording them the freedom they never had when they were younger. 

“Aye,” Robb says, nodding decisively as he looks back at Theon and Jon. “We don’t want to be a cog in a machine. We don’t want to be puppets in someone’s game. We want to make music, and we want to be genuine with the people who love what we create.” 

The room falls silent, Mormont considering. “I’ve had a lot of direct dealings with Hollywood Records,” he says. “And I know how their corporation operates sometimes. So I feel I have a good idea of what you  _ aren’t  _ looking for.” His eyes dart between the three of them, deadset, certain. “I think that Republic Records could be just what you need. We could give you that room to grow, while also helping support you so that your comeback is the best it can be.” 

Mormont’s eyes fall to Robb, a brow raising. “Robb, your wife has been under us for quite a few albums now,” he says. “I think every one of them has been a different genre. That’s the sort of work we’re lookin’ to do. Let artists find themselves, and help fans find themselves in that music.” 

“Well said, Mormont,” Davos says, nodding decisively. “Thanks for comin’ in. We’ll discuss and get back to you soon. I appreciate it,” he says, offering his hand for Mormont to shake. He does, before turning to the three of them, shaking their hand one by one. 

“Good to meet you,” Jon says when it’s his turn, and the look in Mormont’s eyes— it’s strangely settling, for a label bigwig. 

Him, Theon, and Robb go to get something to eat afterwards— though Jon makes Theon swear that there won’t be any paps here this time, making Robb laugh. “So what’d you think?” Robb finally asks, after their waiter takes their order. 

“I have a weirdly good feeling about Republic,” Theon says with a shrug. “I dunno. Maybe I just liked Mormont. But it didn’t seem as… desperate sales pitch. It seemed genuine.” 

“Aye, that’s the thing,” Jon says with a shrug. “They’ll say anythin’ to get you to sign. Disney promised us all sorts of shit.” 

“Well, they did make us famous,” Robb says. “So they delivered on that end. I liked what he said about giving us the room to figure out our music, though.” 

“Mm,” Jon hums. “That’s what matters most. I don’t care as much about the success. I just don’t want to be yanked around again like a puppet on strings.” 

“If he meant what he said,  _ truly,  _ it might be exactly what we’re looking for,” Theon says. “Robb, how has Margaery felt about them?” 

“She likes workin’ with them a lot,” he says. “She’s planning on recording her next album there as well. She’s never had any major complaints.” He huffs, rolling his eyes. “Loads better than Big Machine, at least.” 

Jon grimaces, because even if he hadn’t been on the best of terms with Robb when the whole shitshow with Margaery’s masters had gone down, he’d heard about the fallout through Arya. It had taken her years to finally get the opportunity to buy them back, long enough she’d re-recorded them in the middle of it all. 

“They let her drop three albums with absolutely no warning five months apart,” Robb adds. “I know she has more clout than us, but I think that speaks pretty well towards how willing they are to let artists do what they want.”

Theon shrugs. “Might be worthwhile to meet again, get more into detail this time. Get the legal team involved.” 

“Aye,” Jon says with a nod. “I’m good with that, if you two are.” 

“Alright, then,” Robb says, grinning. He picks up his glass, raising it in salute to the two of them. “Well, here’s hoping this works.”

“And that it doesn’t bite us in the arse,” Theon adds, clinking his glass with Robb’s. 

“Aye,” Jon says, grinning. “We can only hope.” 

***

Jon is strangely antsy as he climbs out of his car in Dany’s driveway, squinting in the bright midmorning sunlight. Part of him has barely been able to forget her whispered confessions the other night, while the other part has desperately been trying to push them away. 

It’s so bloody confusing that it’s giving him headaches, his mind tangled in knots. His heart pulls in one way, desperate for the peace and warmth that comes from having her in his arms. And then his head is pulling in another, desperate for answers, an explanation of why she kept his daughter from him so long if she’d been so guilty over it. 

He knows missing her is fucking stupid, but getting her reasoning is also probably a terrible idea. He’s wanted answers for so long, but what if they just drag him farther back into the past now? 

Everything seems fine when he tells his heart and his head to shut up, shoving those longings away. Maybe it’s easier to just stay as they are now— not friends, not enemies, polite and cordial and nothing more. And then nothing will risk hurting Ella— no ghosts of the past, no longings of his delusional heart, no desperate need for explanation. 

Today will be fine, he hopes. With any luck Dany will be feeling better, no more cold medicine to lower her guard. They’ll be courteous and pleasant and nothing more. And Jon will get to spend time with Ella, which is what he really wants anyways. 

That’s why he’s here. Nothing matters more than his daughter. 

“Daddy!” she squeals when she opens the door, and he grins. Somehow Ella sounds more excited every time she sees him, and it warms his heart completely. Jon wouldn’t blame her if she’d grown bored of him by now, but he’s very grateful that she hasn’t. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, following her inside. Missandei’s walking down the hall, clearly headed somewhere for work based on what she’s wearing. 

“Hi, Jon,” she says, flashing him a brief smile. “I’m off to a meeting, but I’ll see you later, alright Ella?” 

“Bye Auntie Dei,” Ella says, standing on tiptoes to give the other woman a hug. Missandei waves goodbye again before she’s out the door, and then Ella’s taking his hand and dragging him into the kitchen. 

“I take it your mum’s feeling better?” Jon asks her. Ella nods. He’d texted her after he got back from the meeting at Davos’ yesterday, but he still hasn’t seen her in person since they all had pancakes together, and she’d seemed a little shaky then. 

“Mumma says she’s fine now,” Ella says. “And she has a surprise!” 

“A surprise?” Jon asks, before they finally arrive in the kitchen, finding Dany at the island wrapping sandwiches in tin foil and putting them into a cooler bag. 

“Hi, Jon,” she says, pausing in her work to give him a cordial grin. It doesn’t reach her eyes, and he’s fine with that. 

“What’s going on?” he asks, brows furrowed. At his side, Ella quivers with excitement, making him chuckle. 

“Well, I’m feeling so much better, and it’s so beautiful out today,” Dany says. “So I thought… maybe instead of staying here, we could go to the park and have a picnic.” 

“And the jungle gym!” Ella says, grabbing Jon’s arm. Dany laughs, eyes fond as she looks at their daughter. 

“And go on the jungle gym.” Her gaze darts back up to Jon. “What do you think?” 

Well, that was…  _ not  _ what he was expecting today. Going to the park with Dany and Ella means he’ll have to actually spend time with Dany, not just their daughter. And while he’s not sure his confused heart is up for the trial, he can’t say no to Ella’s bright smile. 

“Sounds fine with me,” he says. He glances down at Ella quickly, frowning, before he meets Dany’s eyes again. “Er… we’re not going to have another problem with, uh, cameras, right?” 

Dany makes a face. “I can’t know for certain, but I don’t think so. Baelor’s Garden is generally pretty safe.” 

His stomach drops to probably his shoes, mouth suddenly dry.  _ Baelor’s Garden?  _ She seriously wants to go back there, with him?  _ And  _ Ella? Even if he’s been a few times with Arya since that first occasion that she dragged him there, going back to a place that used to be sacred to him and Dany  _ with Dany  _ seems like a disaster waiting to happen. 

He’s not sure he’s ready to go back there with her, of all people. He’d hardly wanted to go back with Arya. Jon surveys her, trying to decipher if she’s as affected by the suggestion as he is. 

Maybe everything she’d said to him the other night while she was sick was bullshit, then. How can she miss him, how can she feel so guilty over what she did, and then just want to waltz back into a place so integral to their past without a second thought? 

“Mumma, can we go to the bench with the ducks that’s under the tree?” Ella asks, and his stomach plummets again. Dany’s face immediately changes, and he can see it all in her eyes for just a moment— the pain, the uncertainty, the longing. 

Maybe she  _ had  _ been telling the truth. Gods, this is going to be a fucking trainwreck. 

“Not today, I don’t think,” Dany whispers. She clears her throat, and her voice sounds more even when she speaks again. “I thought you wanted to play on the playground. That’s on the other side of the park.” 

“Okay,” Ella says. She sounds completely unbothered, climbing up onto a barstool to help Dany put things in the cooler. 

“Ella,” Dany says, shooing her hand away as she tries to steal a strawberry from the tupperware Dany’s packing them into. “Go put your shoes on so we can go, alright love?” 

Cooler packed and Ella’s shoes on, they get in Dany’s car and set out for the park. A shiver runs down Jon’s spine as they pull into the lot, Dany putting the car in park. He glances over at her briefly, and the way her eyes linger on the front gates— he wonders if she feels it too. The shadow of the past hanging over them both. 

Ella’s managed to get herself unbuckled from her carseat by the time Dany goes around to open her door, their daughter jumping out the moment Dany steps back. “I’ll take this,” Jon offers, grabbing the cooler from the trunk. He tugs on his sunglasses regardless— even if it’s unusual for him to get photographed here, he still doesn’t particularly want to be recognized. 

It dawns on him that this is the first time he’s ever gone somewhere in public with both Dany  _ and  _ Ella. If anyone happens to take a photo of them, if this gets out, well… he can just picture how the internet will react to that. How the media will descend like locusts. 

Dany puts on sunglasses too, he notices. Her hair is braided back today, making it a little more nodescript than it usually is. 

Fuck, this might be an absoltuely terrible idea. 

But then again, Jon thinks as they walk through the park, what else are they supposed to do? Never be spotted together in public with Ella? Keep her shut away in the house? It’s such a tricky, delicate balance between protecting her privacy and letting her have as normal of a life as possible. The one good thing, Jon knows, is that if they get photographed here and end up in the rags, the focus won’t necessarily be on Ella— it’ll be on him and Dany. 

The thought makes his skin crawl, just imagining all the people prying into their private lives, but he’d gladly be harassed by paparazzi for the rest of his life if it meant Ella didn’t have to be. 

Dany picks out a spot by the other duck pond— a this one closer to the playground and far away from the one by their bench, thank the gods— and he and Ella spread out a picnic blanket in the sunshine, close to the shore but with a few trees and bushes dividing them from the path, so they have relative privacy. “Mumma, can I feed the ducks?” Ella asks eagerly, standing  _ particularly  _ close to the water’s edge as she watches them swim by. 

“After lunch, sweetheart,” Dany tells her. “Eat your sandwich first, alright?” 

“It’s a good thing we didn’t bring Ghost,” Jon says to Ella as they unwrap their sandwiches. “He loves to chase ducks and geese.” 

“Really?” Ella says, eyes wide.  _ Shit,  _ Jon thinks, seeing how upset she is by that. 

“Well, he doesn’t catch them,” Jon assures her. “He wouldn’t hurt them. He just likes to chase them away.” That puts Ella at ease, and she continues eating her sandwich. Next to him, Dany has her hand covering her mouth, like she’s trying not to laugh. 

He shoots her a look, and her eyes sparkle as they meet his, the smile pulling at her lips going nowhere with his chastising glare. 

It makes his heart swoop in his chest, which he vehemently tries to ignore. 

Ella wolfs down her sandwich in record speed, begging Dany for bread to feed the ducks once she’s done. “You can’t give them bread; it’s bad for them,” Dany tells her. “But I brought you grapes for them instead, alright? Finish your fruit and then you can feed them.” 

“Okay,” Ella says after shoving a whole strawberry in her mouth. “Can I go now?” 

Jon laughs as Dany rolls her eyes, but she fishes the grapes out of the cooler nonetheless. “Here,” Dany says, handing over the baggie. “Be careful near the water, alright?” 

Ella nods quickly before racing back over to the water’s edge, the ducks already quacking and swarming around her when they see she has food in her hand. Jon grins, taking another bite of his sandwich. 

“How is it?” Dany says, nodding towards his lunch. “You still like roast beef, right?” 

He nods, a little surprised that she remembers. Although, he supposes, he still has half of her favorite things memorized, still knows what her favorite colors are and what foods she likes and what activities she absolutely despises. 

Well, used to, at least. Gods know if that’s the same, or if that all changed too when she walked out the door. He keeps forgetting that this Dany is different from the one he used to know. From  _ his  _ Dany. Maybe that’s why his thoughts are so bloody tangled. 

“It’s good,” he assures her. “Thank you for makin’ lunch.” 

She shrugs. “The least I can do, after you took care of me the other day.” Dany turns to look at him, swallowing. “Really, Jon. I can’t thank you enough. For watching Ella as well.” 

He shakes his head. “Don’t. I’m always happy to help with her, you know that.” 

Dany nods. “Well, she had a great time,” she tells him. In front of them, Ella giggles, one of the ducks climbing out of the pond to get a grape that she’d dropped on the ground. “She’s already plotting your next movie night.” 

“Better not be something so sad this time,” he jokes, and Dany laughs, the sound so sweet that it sends a shock through him. 

How many hours did he used to spend doing stupid shit just to make her laugh like that? How many times did he try to cheer her up after failed auditions and long, stressful days, not counting victory until he’d finally made her smile? He used to live for the melodious sound of her laughter, drink it in and bask in it. He hasn’t heard her laugh like that in so long, and all he wants is to hear more. 

_ Stop it,  _ his brain snaps.  _ This isn’t back then, and you’re not the same people.  _ He pushes down the yearning in his heart, squeezing his eyes closed. He’s pining after a ghost, a phantom. Something that doesn’t even exist anymore. 

Ella pulls him from his spiral, running back over, her bag empty. “Can we go to the playground now?” she asks, and Dany smiles at her, tucking a curl behind her ear. 

“Sure, sweetheart,” she says. “Help us clean up the picnic, yeah?” 

Ella skips ahead of them as they follow the path down to the large playground area, the blanket slung over Jon’s arm and the cooler clutched in Dany’s hand. There’s a large, open space of grass right next to the playground that’s close enough to keep an eye on Ella, but also far enough away from the circle of picnic tables that they won’t be completely noticeable to all the other people there. “Go on,” Dany tells Ella, dropping a kiss on her head. “We’ll watch from here. Be safe, okay? Don’t go too far.” 

Jon spreads out the blanket again as Ella races over to the playground, joining the herd of kids that are climbing up and down the structures. Dany takes a seat next to him, pushing her sunglasses up and watching their daughter scale the side of the castle. 

“It’s good to see her playing with other kids her age,” Dany confesses. “I worry about her, being shut up in that house so often.” She runs a hand through her hair. “But I’m still half terrified to bring her anywhere and get ambushed by cameras again. She was so shaken by them that day. It’s… I can never seem to find a compromise.” 

It reminds him of what he’d thought the other night, when they’d watched Lilo and Stitch together. Ella must be lonely without anyone aside from him and Dany and Missandei and her grandmother in her life. Sure, she has cousins now, but that’s not enough. She should be able to have friends of her own instead of just family. 

“I was wondering,” Jon says, Dany turning to look at him. “I know you have more… involvement with her education, and everything. Maybe homeschooling is better for her; I’ve got no bloody clue. But,” he says, “there are good private schools here. Other people, much more famous than us, send their kids there. It might be good for her, to have a class with kids her age.” 

“I was thinking that too,” Dany says. Jon blinks, a little surprised. “It’s so hard, because I want to protect her, but at the same time, I don’t want to lock her away from the world. That’s not healthy either. I was thinking about looking at schools. Ones where there wouldn’t be any issues, or possibility for her privacy— or ours— to be compromised. Maybe having her start at one after Christmas.” 

“I think that would be good for her,” Jon agrees. “And I’d like to help you look at schools, when you get to that point.” 

“Of course,” Dany says, and he breathes a sigh of relief that she isn’t putting up a fight about him wanting to be involved in this decision. She glances at him, hesitancy in her eyes, and Jon’s heart races, bracing himself for what she’s going to say next. 

“I… there’s no good solution here, I know that,” she says. “I don’t want to lock her in the house, obviously. That’s a terrible plan. But taking her almost anywhere, especially  _ both  _ of us, inherently runs the risk of us getting photographed. And the cameras freak her out, and I never want to drag her into the spotlight, but—” she pauses. “You know as well as I do that tabloids don’t really care about  _ her  _ as much as they care about what that means happened between  _ us.”  _

Jon exhales, eyes casting down. “I know,” he says. If it was just Ella, out with Missandei or Rhaella or someone, he doubts the paps would even blink an eye. Really, it’s  _ them  _ that cause the issues. “Believe me, I’m not lookin’ forward to all the rumors  _ Westeros Weekly  _ is about to publish trying to figure out what happened.”  _ Especially when I don’t even bloody know,  _ he thinks. “But being her father is the most important thing to me. And as much as I fuckin’  _ hate  _ the bloody rags, I’ll put up with whatever garbage they spew if it means she gets to do normal things.” 

Dany nods, her expression unreadable when he meets her eyes again. “I will too,” she says. “And I’m sorry, Jon.” His brow furrows, confused. “I’m sorry you have to sacrifice your privacy like this.” 

He exhales, shrugging. “I sacrificed my privacy the moment I signed that contract with Disney,” he says. “Even if I’ve been off the grid, I know the moment we make this comeback that changes. That’s just how this world works.” Jon looks at her, his gaze intense. “I mean it, Dany. I don’t give a fuck what they say about me. I just want her to be happy. To be able to be as normal as possible, given the circumstances.” 

Dany nods, biting her lip. “Sometimes I wish we’d stayed in Essos,” she admits, and he can feel the anger flare in his chest, trying to bite it down so he doesn’t snap at her. “Their laws about paparazzi are so much more strict. I used to be able to bring her to ballet class and the shop and never worry about being ambushed by cameras.” She glances over at him again, her eyes a little shiny, and shrugs. “But then I see her with you. And I know whatever I have to deal with when it comes to the press is worth it.” 

That certainly softens the blow of her previous statement, his anger receding back into the dark depths again, lurking under the surface like it generally does. But it makes him curious again— and he can’t help himself, the desire for answers making the words tumble out before he can remind himself what a bad idea it is to upset their status quo. 

“Can I ask you something?” he says, and Dany looks over to him, blinking in surprise. 

“Sure,” she says, but she only sounds half-certain. 

Jon exhales, glancing down at the blanket below them. “I know you don’t want to talk about why you left yet,” he says, and he can see Dany tense, even out of the corner of his eye. “But I was wonderin’.” He looks up at her, the sunlight making him squint. The bright light makes her expression even more unreadable. “Why did you finally come back?” 

_ And was it for me? So I could meet Ella?  _ he really wants to add. But he leaves that part unsaid. 

Dany shakes her head, looking down at her lap. “My show was done,” she says. “I knew my mother wanted to be closer to Dragonstone, to see my brothers. But mostly…” she exhales, looking up to meet his eyes again, hers blazing. 

“I saw some stupid Buzzfeed article talking about how it was ten years since  _ A Little Bit Longer  _ had come out. And it had a picture of you three right on the front.” She bites her lip, hesitating. “And then Ella came running into the room, and I almost vomited, because the guilt was… so debilitating.” She pauses. “And I knew right then. I had fucked up beyond belief, and you probably wouldn’t want anything to do with me, but I knew I had to try to make things somewhat right.” 

He exhales, the crushing feeling in his chest dissipating a little bit. “Oh,” he says, his eyes squeezing closed. “I’d wondered… since you didn’t tell me. I’d wondered if you would have ever told me, if I hadn’t seen that video.” 

She sighs, tucking a stray curl from her braid behind her ear. “I regret more than anything that that’s how you found out about her,” she whispers. “Well, not more than anything, I suppose. I regret keeping her from you the most.” He can feel the anger bubbling up again— if she regretted it so much, she should have just  _ told  _ him— but he keeps his mouth closed, tries to tamp it down as Dany continues. “I told myself for years eventually I’d tell you. And every time I came close I just… was paralyzed with fear. It was easier to keep you in the dark.” She exhales, shaky. “But it wasn’t right.” 

Jon exhales too, scrubbing at his face. “No, it wasn’t,” he says. 

“I was planning on calling you right after we got home from the place I got ambushed by those bloody paps,” she says. “I’d finally convinced Sansa to give me your number. And then  _ that  _ shitshow happened, and poor Ella was so rattled, and I got distracted. And then you showed up anyway.” 

Jon chances a glance over at her, studying the furrow of her brow, the way she traces her finger along the rip in her jeans methodically. “I know I keep saying I’m sorry, and I still don’t expect you to forgive me, but I am.” 

He remains quiet for a moment— even if this peace between them is nice, she’s right. He’s still not going to forgive her. He may have succeeded in bridling the anger, but it’s still there, even if it’s more controlled. “Thank you for tellin’ me,” he says instead, because he knows it couldn’t have been an easy question to answer. And yet she’d still bared her soul to him a bit— even after all he’s said to her since she came back. 

There’s silence between them, only the sound of bird calls and children on the playground filling the void. Finally, he hears Dany shift next to him, but he keeps his eyes on the jungle gym, watching Ella’s shining silver curls. 

“Can I ask  _ you  _ a question?” Dany says, and he hums in consent. She hesitates, and he looks over to her, taken aback by the fear in her eyes. 

“When we fought a couple weeks ago,” she says, voice small. “You said… you almost killed yourself.” 

He exhales, bowing his head. “That’s not really a question,” he tells her, dry and humorless. He can feel her gaze on him, eyes imploring. 

“Jon, you know what I mean.” 

He sighs, sitting back up. “I was a fuckin’ mess after you left, you know that,” he says. “The band fell apart because I couldn’t keep it together. And then I tried to do solo things, and that felt like it was just me goin’ through the motions. And then I dated Ygritte, but I still felt empty inside.” He pauses, glancing over at Dany. “I didn’t do it on purpose, if that’s what you mean. I had been drinking too much for years already. It numbed the pain, made me forget that I felt like… an empty shell of a person.” He shrugs. “I went too far one night, at some stupid party. I was blackout drunk and I still didn’t stop. I stopped breathin’ for a minute, I guess. I don’t remember a bloody thing, but someone called 911. They revived me and pumped my stomach.” Jon pauses. “I checked myself into rehab as soon as I got out of the hospital.” 

She’s silent next to him, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. That was…  _ much  _ more detail than he intended on sharing. He probably could have just kept it to the accidental alcohol poisoning part and not disclosed the circumstances that led him to said situation. 

There’s something about her that just brings down all his walls lately, makes him think he’s back in a time when he used to be able to tell her everything. It’s an adjustment now, spending all this time with her and unlearning who she was and what she used to mean to him. 

It’s not the same anymore, Jon knows. He just… he just keeps forgetting. 

“Fucking hells, Jon,” he hears Dany finally say, glancing up to meet her eyes. She looks… devastated. Broken. As wrecked on the outside as he’d felt on the inside when she took off. 

“S’alright,” he murmurs, shaking his head slightly. It’s  _ not  _ alright, he knows, but the way she’s looking at him right now— he needs her to stop immediately or he’s going to forget again, fall back into the past and let his heart take control of his brain. Just like that night, when he’d fucking told her he  _ missed her,  _ like a bloody idiot. 

“No,” she says, eyes blazing, and before Jon knows what’s happening, she’s lunging forward, arms tightening around his neck as she hugs him. 

He just sits there, shell shocked for a moment. His heart races in his chest, senses overwhelmed by the sudden feeling of her pressed against him. But then his walls fall down, the feeling too familiar and comforting, and he wraps his arms around her as well, head dropping to her shoulder. 

_ I miss you too,  _ he hears himself say again in his head. Clearly all the bullshit he’s been spewing to his cousins about how he doesn’t care about Dany anymore is exactly that, because he can’t deny the truth of those whispered words now that he has her in his arms again. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she says, voice choked. He can feel her shuddering breaths against his shoulder, practically hear her heartbeat pounding in her chest. 

His heart hums as he breathes in her scent, holds her tightly in his arms, even though he knows this is  _ not good.  _ This is not what he should be doing; he should not be getting sucked into more fantasies of how they used to be when the truth of what they are  _ now  _ is staring him in the face. 

But he holds Dany tighter instead, his heart desperately clinging to the feel of her body pressed against his. For just a moment, it seems like the past seven years never happened. 

_ But they did,  _ his mind insists.  _ She broke your heart, and hid your daughter from you, and you should not even be considering forgetting any of that.  _

She’s the reason he almost fucking died in the first place. Although— well, Jon supposes that’s a bit unfair. Sure, her leaving was what sparked his spiral into disaster, but it was his choice to start drinking. A poor choice driven by heartbreak, maybe, but his choice all the same. He can’t really blame Dany for bad decisions he made, even if they were to cope with the pain she inflicted. 

His mind feels like a warzone, but his heart— it’s beyond content to just have her in his arms again. Like it can’t even remember the scars she’d left there. 

Dany pulls back suddenly, violet eyes wide and panicked. “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” she says. “I— I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have— not without asking—” She breaks off, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” Jon promises her, though his head is still spinning. “Really, Dany. You don’t have to apologize.” 

“I  _ am  _ glad you were okay,” she repeats, as if he didn’t believe her the first time. “I can’t—” She seems to catch herself. “For Ella’s sake.” 

Jon doesn’t let himself dwell on Dany’s slip up, because that leads down a dangerous path. “I’m glad too,” he admits. “For Ella.” 

They barely talk the rest of the day, except for to Ella, when she eventually comes running back to them. But even then his daughter doesn’t distract him from the war between his mind and heart, his dreams and his ghosts. Not the way she usually does. Jon feels like his head is going to explode by the time he gets home, his thoughts such a bloody tangled mess that he doesn’t even know where to begin unravelling them. 

But then his eyes land on the guitar propped next to the sofa, and it’s like a sigh of relief. 

Jon moves without even thinking, shrugging the strap over his head and sitting down on the sofa, already plucking at the strings. It’s like the song has taken possession of his mind again, all his bottled emotions compressed until they couldn’t stand it anymore and burst out as  _ this.  _ The chords are simple, more of a backup to the lyrics, but he sings like he’s known them all his life, not like they’re something he’s just now come up with. 

Ghost bounds over to him, hopping up next to him and nudging the guitar as he plays, tail wagging as he listens to Jon sing. He goes back, trying out a new line for the verse, deciding he likes it better. It’s taken such possession of him he’s not even bothering to write things down, recording it all on his phone instead. 

Barely half an hour later it’s finished, and Jon exhales, his mind feeling a little bit at peace again. Still not entirely better, but he’s gained some clarity. 

He thinks about the first line again, and his heart thunders with the truth of it. 

_ I don’t trust myself when I’m around you.  _

Clarity is good, he knows. Much better than his mind being such a tangled mess. But if  _ this  _ is the truth, that’s not necessarily a good thing either. He can just picture Robb and Theon’s faces when he plays it for them. The way Robb will side-eye him, the way Theon will arch his eyebrows. The way they’ll both see through him right away, realize the truth of this predicament he’s in. 

Maybe this song… maybe this one he’ll keep to himself for now. 

Others take him, he is  _ so fucking screwed.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES I have complete faith that the swifties are right and we're getting a third album in March, if you caught that reference. If I'm wrong catch me coming back to edit this chapter later on 😂
> 
> Chapter title is from [Trust!](https://youtu.be/119kCfAh6jo)

**Author's Note:**

> A timeline for all the flashbacks is available [here](https://stilesssolo.tumblr.com/post/642514352998662144/a-time-line-would-be-great)— it will be updated with every chapter!


End file.
